


F1 Ficlets/Drabbles

by kakkakerssi



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Arguing, Breathplay, Character Death, Christmas, Crying, Death, Depression, Dogs, First Kiss, M/M, Nightmares, Overthinking, Platonic Cuddling, Shower Sex, Tattoos, Teasing, Terminal Illnesses, Threats, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 52
Words: 37,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21561244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkakerssi/pseuds/kakkakerssi
Summary: An infinite group of short single scenes which have no relation to each other. Not all warnings will apply to all the chapters. There may be some happiness amongst all the misery.Most recent chapter: #52 George and Dany (with bonus Pierre!)
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell, Alexander Albon/Lando Norris, Alexander Albon/Max Verstappen, Arthur Leclerc/Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc/Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc/Fabian Vettel, Charles Leclerc/George Russell, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc/Sebastian Vettel, Daniil Kvyat/George Russell, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr/Max Verstappen, Lando Norris/Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris/Max Verstappen, Lando Norris/Sebastian Vettel, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly/Max Verstappen
Comments: 430
Kudos: 239





	1. Leclerc/Verstappen - arguing

Charles had argued with everyone a lot recently. The psychologists had helped him maintain his performance on track, but nobody had helped him maintain his personal relationships. He shouted at people who he used to care about; his arguments with Max got more heated. Though they'd never been violent with each other, there had been lots of screaming and door slamming and "no, fuck _you_."

Charles had a short fuse for anyone who tried to be supportive to him. He knew that they had good intentions but he was frustrated with the way everyone showed it. He was pissed off that people expected him to do all the work all the time. 

'I can't imagine how you must be feeling.' Yes you can, you just don't want to. Try harder. You have people in your life you care about - imagine how you'd feel if they died. It would be awful.

'You're so brave.' What other choice do I have? I don't feel very brave.

'You must tell me if there's anything I can do to help.' I have enough going on without also coming up with an imaginary list of tasks for you to do. I need help surviving, can you do that?

'My door is always open.' The only person whose door was always open was Max. Whether Charles was in a good mood, or a bad mood, or a completely numb mood, Max had always been there. He'd agree with Charles that other people were stupid. The problem with Max was that he always met Charles's temper; Max had never managed to calm him down. The two of them would shout and scream and say horrible things to each other and it never helped.

"Sometimes I wish your Dad had died instead of mine!" Charles spat, ignoring the tears streaming down his face as he threw his arms around Max, desperately craving comfort from the man he was so angry with. He didn't even remember how this argument had started.

"Sometimes I wish that too!" Max retorted, squeezing Charles tight as he burst into tears himself. The two of them stayed there, knelt on the floor in Charles's kitchen for what felt like an eternity, both of them too exhausted from the flight back from Brazil to fight anymore. Now Charles remembered what they'd been arguing about. Max's race had ended with victory and Charles's had ended with a puncture. 

"I don't want to lose you too," Charles cried, hiding his face against Max's neck. "I hate fighting with you so much. I hate all of it. I don't want you to go..."

"I'm sorry you're hurting," Max said quietly, and for the first time in months, Charles didn't have an angry response for him.


	2. Leclerc/Vettel - breathplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles enjoys breath play and that's why Sebastian does it.

Holding one hand over Charles's mouth and the other hand over Charles's nose, that didn't make Sebastian happy. Watching Charles close his eyes and counting away the seconds that Charles remained motionless didn't make him happy either. But when Charles started to struggle and Sebastian immediately let go of him and Charles slumped against Sebastian, his gasps peppered with lots of soft french words about how much he loved Sebastian, well, that _did _make him happy. Feeling Charles like putty in his arms, sweaty and undone and raw and whimpering and eager to taste him, that _did _make him happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 words, bang on. Hooray for drabbles. Go where you want with this in your mind. In reality, be safe.


	3. Gasly/Leclerc - terminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one constant through Charles's life has been Pierre. And now Charles is going to leave him. It's not fair.

Charles had always wondered when he'd stop going to other people's funerals and when people would go to his instead. He just didn't expect it to be so soon. He thought he'd have a few more years, at least. He thought maybe he'd have time for a second world championship.

But when the conversation moved away from 'treatment plans' and into 'managing the pain' and 'keeping him comfortable', Charles knew he didn't have too long left. He blinked slowly, the soft blankets covering him to keep him warm felt painfully heavy on top of his frail body, and wondered what would happen when he closed his eyes for the last time.

Gazing across at Pierre asleep in the armchair next to him, it didn't seem fair. Pierre deserved better. Pierre had always deserved better, but Pierre had insisted on loving him and Charles wasn't ready to argue with him. He'd never liked arguing with Pierre.

A raspy breath caught in Charles's throat and he coughed loudly.

Pierre immediately woke up and he sat forward in his chair, reaching out and putting his hand on Charles's arm, careful not to disturb the tube that carried all the fluids and pain medication to 'manage the pain.'. "It's okay, Charles, I'm right here, my love."

Despite the pain, Charles managed a smile. "I know."


	4. Norris/Verstappen - crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max cries down the phone to Lando. Lando cries back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @AnaMachado and @Zig_Zag_F1 who both requested something with Max, possibly with some angst and an optimistic ending. I tried my best!

"It just sucks, you know?" Max said into his phone, not really expecting an answer from Lando. He rolled over on the sofa in his apartment, wishing he were in Guildford with Lando instead of being in Monaco. Frowning, he cursed at himself for being ungrateful about being in Monaco.

"I know." Lando's response was gentle; Lando was always gentle with Max when he was feeling low. When Max would scream and shout and shove the furniture, Lando would be the complete opposite.

"I should be happy that I just won the race in Brazil, but I don't feel anything. I know it was a good thing, what happened, but I don't feel good about it. I don't feel _anything_ about it. And it's fucking frustrating because I want to be able to enjoy these things. I should be 'Max Verstappen, proud 8 time Grand Prix winner', not 'Max Verstappen, depressed as shit!'"

Max sighed, screwing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I bet I probably sound really ungrateful right now. Do you want to talk about your race instead?"

"My race?" Lando laughed. "Where I managed to gain two places whilst my team-mate gained seventeen places? No thank you. And you don't sound ungrateful. You sound sad and frustrated."

"I _am_ sad and frustrated," Max replied, opening his eyes and glaring up at the ceiling. "I wish... I don't know what I wish. I wish I wasn't so numb from this medication."

"Is it helping at all?"

"Well I don't want to fucking _die_ anymore, if that's what you mean," Max snapped, flinching. He hated when he got annoyed at Lando. It wasn't personal; Max was annoyed at everything, mostly himself. "But, you're right, that's the point, I guess, right? The drugs help take the edge off. I just wish I could feel more positive emotions again. I feel so empty. It's like my insides are filled with a big black cloud that's squeezing me and the only thing that's stopping my heart turning into actual stone is how I feel about you. You deserve so much better than me, Lando. You deserve so much more than I can give you."

"I don't want 'more.' I want _you_. I'm sorry you're going through such a shitty time right now, Max. I wish there was something I could do to help."

Lando's voice sounded like he was trying hard not to cry, and it made Max well up. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes. He didn't want to cry anymore. He'd done enough crying recently. He wanted to laugh and smile and cuddle Lando and play stupid computer games and do a bad job at cooking and feel butterflies in his tummy with Lando again.

"You do help," Max said quietly. "You help by listening. You help by being patient. You're exactly what I need right now, Lando, and I don't want you to ever forget how much I love you. You keep saying I'm going to get better, and I'm trying my best to believe you. I'm going to keep fighting, okay? I'm going to keep taking the stupid medication and I'm going to keep trying to find a counsellor who can help me."

Max waited for Lando's response but there was none - just the sound of Lando's shaky breathing where he was fighting to regain his composure and sound strong for Max.

"Stop crying, Lando," Max said, sitting up on the sofa. "You know you'll fucking set me off too."

"I'm sorry," Lando replied, his voice squeaky. "I just... I love you so fucking _much_."

"Great now I'm fucking crying too," Max laughed through his tears. "We're so pathetic, aren't we?"

Lando laughed down the phone then, glad that Max wasn't angry with him for letting out his emotions. "Yeah, we are." 

Max pressed the phone closer to his ear and closed his eyes. Hearing Lando was all he needed. He loved all of Lando, whether he was angry or crying and especially when he was laughing. As long as Lando could still laugh and Max could still laugh with him, maybe things would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression is the worst. I'm sure Max will better one day. <3
> 
> Still open to requests. :D


	5. Norris/Sainz - absolute fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something short and sweet about Lando feeling happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @MediumFrosty who requested Carlos/Lando. This is probably the lightest, happiest thing I've ever written. It was hard! Hopefully I conveyed just how peaceful Lando feels.

Lando had often wondered what pure happiness would feel like. Would it be standing on top of an F1 podium, having just won the last race of the season as well as the championship? Would it be standing on the top of the podium having just won the Le Mans 24 hour race? Would it be winning his home Grand Prix?

It turns out it was a lot more simple than that. Lando was sitting on a sofa in a large living room in the Spanish countryside, surrounded by members of the Sainz family along with their partners. Lando had a dog curled up on the floor at his feet, and he was cradling a glass of wine in his hand. He didn't like the taste of it but it smelt nice and everyone else was drinking. Lando wasn't joining in the conversation; they'd all transitioned into Spanish but Lando was okay with this. He was feeling shy but was happy to listen to them because he thought Spanish was a beautiful language.

They'd spent the day out in one of the rally cars, tearing through the land on the ranch. Carlos had given Lando lessons and now all of Lando's muscles ached in a good way from concentrating on how to slide a car. 

Lando smiled to himself and rest his head on the back of the sofa, peering up at Carlos who was sitting next to him. Carlos noticed Lando's movement and he turned to look at him, a small smile on his face. Carlos reached out and ran his fingers through Lando's hair, kissing his temple. "You look relaxed, my love."

Lando said nothing and closed his eyes. So this was what happiness felt like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still open to requests, if you can drop a pairing / setting, that would be fantastic. I feel a lot more comfortable writing angsty things, but I can try for happiness and joy if that's what you're into!


	6. Albon/Verstappen - desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @Dr3amingInColour and @AnaMachado who wanted some Alex/Max and forced coming out. I might write another one to fill this prompt as well, but here it is for you. Try not to panic as much as Alex is.

Alex threw his helmet, gloves, balaclava and HANS device at his physio and rushed through the garage, careful not to knock anything or anybody over as he made his way to the back of the paddock. The paddock was rammed with people in hi-vis taking everything apart - they'd already started while the race was on, per usual. Alex wasn't interested in any of them. He dodged what media were left in the paddock and pushed past the security guards at the already-disassembled paddock turnstiles.

Ahead of him was the medical centre. Alex was still breathing heavy from the race and his muscles were screaming at him to just stop for a second, to just slow down and have a rest and try and recover, but none of it mattered and Alex propelled his way forward to the medical centre. He grabbed people's shoulders and pulled them back as he squeezed between them, desperate to make his way inside.

As Alex reached the doors to the medical centre, he felt himself being pulled back into the crowd of people. It was noisy but Alex could barely take any of it in, such was his tunnel vision. He had to get inside the medical centre. He had to see Max.

"No, you don't understand," Alex explained as his team appeared around him, pulling him away from the medical centre. "I have to see Max." His voice was calm; he was always calm. Alex rarely shouted, it just wasn't in his personality. Max was the one who screamed and shouted in their relationship; the fire to Alex's ice. "Please."

Alex tried to shove the hands free and break free from their grip but he was soon overpowered. He felt like his feet weren't even on the ground anymore. He was reaching, stretching, doing anything he could to get near the door to the medical centre but it still wasn't enough. Alex didn't know where he found the strength, his exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him but he shouted louder than he'd ever done in his life. "Please, he's my _fiancé_!"


	7. Leclerc/Ricciardo - tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel goes with Charles to get his first tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the feels. Inspired by @Charona 's latest piece where everyone is grieving. :(

"Do you think it will hurt?" Charles asked, pacing up and down inside the tattoo studio whilst he waited to be called over to the chair. He glanced at Daniel who was sitting down, looking relaxed.

"Of course, it'll be fucking painful," Daniel replied, glancing up at Charles. "Your ribs especially, the skin is thin and it's right over the bone. It's one of the most painful places to be tattooed."

Charles stood still for a moment, thinking. He had an entirely empty body, there were plenty of other places he could have the tattoo. But he didn't want to change his mind; he'd decided on the left side of his ribs and that's where the tattoo would stay.

"But even then, I guess it won't hurt as much as... you know..." he trailed off, waving his arm around and hoping that was enough to fill in the gaps for Daniel. They'd talked about Charles's tattoo plans since the beginning of the year. He wanted to have two little stars, one for Jules, and one for his Father. That way they'd go everywhere with him and if he ever wanted to think about them, he could just give himself a little squeeze and they'd be right there with him.

And then August had happened and Charles had immediately changed his plans to be three stars. He still wanted the ink right by his heart, but somewhere a bit less obvious to the world if he walked around the beach with his shirt off. His tattoo was to be for him, not for anybody else.

Daniel was incredibly supportive, helping Charles get an appointment booked for after the end of the season where he'd have plenty of time to heal. They were in Australia for the Christmas period; Charles was craving hot weather still and the 15 degrees in Monaco was nothing compared to the 30 degrees in December.

"You can handle this pain," Daniel said, standing up and wrapping his arms around Charles, kissing the top of his head. He didn't just mean the pain of the tattoo. 

"I believe you," Charles said, sounding almost optimistic. "Let's get it done."


	8. Leclerc/Russell - first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George says goodbye to Charles and wishes him a Happy Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no fics in the Leclerc/Russell tag wtf?? Somebody else write these two guys.

George had just been trying to say goodbye to Charles when suddenly Charles grabbed him and kissed him. George resisted at first but Charles tasted like sweat and champagne and George melted in his arms. Charles had his arms around George's shoulders, one hand on the back of his neck, his fingers reaching up into George's hair and holding him close. George reached his hands down passed Charles's waistband, grabbing his arse and pulling him closer.

It was Charles who pulled away first. Breathless, he smiled up at George, his intense blue eyes meeting George's own. "Happy Christmas to you too. I'll see you next year, yeah?"

"Yeah," George replied, frozen to the spot. He smiled back at Charles and watched as Charles spun around on his heels and marched away from him back into his bright red team garage. _Happy Christmas_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still open to requests. :D


	9. Norris/Ricciardo - shower time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @Fgvbnnn who requested some Lando/Daniel.
> 
> Lando's had a long race in Abu Dhabi and just wants to have a shower and go to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't often write sex scenes. I hope this is okay. D:

Lando had started off the evening beating himself up for not being aggressive enough when defending from Perez in the race. His one job was to stay ahead of Perez and keep his place both in the race and in the championship, and he'd failed. He'd let Perez bully his way past. Lando hated it when it happened; he hated it in the interviews afterwards; he hated it when he went through it in slow motion on British Sky F1 television and he hated it in the walk back to the hotel.

His mind was soon taken off the race when he stepped into the shower with Daniel. With steam filling the room and hot water raining down on him and Daniel on his knees, Lando sank back against the tiles in the shower and dragged his fingers through Daniel's wet, curly hair. Lando was done being passive; he was done letting people get their way. He deserved to get his own way too.

As Daniel made happy gagging noises against him and Lando felt his knees get week, he gripped Daniel's hair tighter and looked down at him. "You're going to make me come so fucking hard," he said, as much an instruction as it was a forecast.

Daniel smiled and pulled away from Lando, standing up and replacing his mouth with his hand. He reached his other hand around the back of Lando's neck and pulled him up onto tip toes, kissing him hard. He loved it when Lando tried to be aggressive. Kissing him again, Daniel pulled Lando's hair as his orgasm shook through him and he kept moving his hand, trying to draw Lando's orgasm out as long as possible, not caring how much the hot water stung against the scratches Lando was making as he clawed against his back. "I fucking love you, Lando."


	10. Albon/Russell - insecurities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is deep in thought again. Georges wishes he could help him feel better.

George never knew how to help Alex when he was in one of his moods. Sometimes Alex would want to talk, and sometimes he'd just want to be left on his own to stew. He rarely cried or punched things, he just sat quietly, knees tucked to his chest and arms wrapped around his shins, looking and feeling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

George knew Alex often felt insecure about a lot of things; he was too tall and too heavy to be a fast little racing driver like Lando, he wasn't white enough to be English, but didn't speak enough Thai to be Thai. He regularly avoided the people he craved to be around, and he had arguments with people in his head instead of out loud. He was constantly paranoid that Marko was going to kick him out of his Red Bull seat, and was somewhat convinced that George would die on track.

So George did the only thing he knew that would bring Alex some comfort - he draped a blanket over Alex's shoulders, placed a hot mug of fruit tea on the floor in front of him, and sat down next to him, mirroring Alex's sitting position. "Crazy world sometimes, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Alex replied, closing his eyes and resting his head on George's shoulder. "Crazy, crazy world."


	11. Albon/Russell - chrometophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George learns how out of hand Alex's anxiety has become.
> 
> Chrometophobia is the fear of money.

George used his key to let himself into Alex's apartment in Milton Keynes. They'd spent Christmas apart, with George having been dragged on a family skiing holiday in the south of France, whilst Alex stayed in England. When they were together, they rarely spent time at Alex's apartment; they both preferred George's place. George hadn't been to Alex's flat for at least six months.

"Jesus, it's freezing in here," George said to himself as he walked down the hallway in search of Alex. The last text he'd had from Alex had been two days ago, something mindless about being at his flat watching Netflix, and George was worried. He'd texted Alex but the messages didn't even show as being delivered, let alone being read.

What struck George was just how bare the apartment was. All the wall decorations were gone and there was no furniture in the hallway, just Alex's pair of trainers. George pushed open the door to the living room and his chest tightened at the sight that confronted him. Alex had no TV. In fact, the only furniture left in his living room was a two-seater sofa that Alex was curled up on, wearing his gifted Hugo Boss hoodie and a blanket George had brought over last time he'd stayed over.

Careful not to wake Alex, George quickly surveyed the rest of the house - the bedroom was completely empty except for Alex's suitcase, and the kitchen was bare as well. The dishwasher and washing machine were unused and George quietly went through the fridge, the freezer, and all the cupboards, finding no food except for a few packets of instant noodles.

George rushed back to the living room and dropped to his knees next to Alex, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up," he said softly, repeating his instruction in a louder voice when Alex didn't stir. He shook Alex harder, rubbing his knuckles against his chest.

"What are you doing here?" Alex asked groggily, opening his eyes slightly and squinting up at George. "You're supposed to be in France."

"I got back yesterday," George explained, pressing his hand against Alex's forehead, worried by how cold he was. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

"I don't know," Alex replied, closing his eyes again and pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"Alex, fucking hell, wake up," George pleaded, shaking Alex again. "I can't believe you're living like this. How much money is in your bank?"

"In my current account? Nine grand. The rest is all in savings," Alex replied, rolling onto his back. "My head hurts."

George stood up and rushed to the kitchen, filling a glass with water before rushing back to the living room. "Sit up," he instructed, squeezing down into the space vacated by Alex's legs. He held the glass out for Alex and supported it while Alex took several small sips. "Alex," he said tentatively. "Why are you living like this when you don't need to? You have thousands."

"I can't spend it," Alex replied, cradling the glass in his lap and resting his head on George's shoulder. "It probably sounds really stupid, but... I just _can't_, George."

George pulled his phone out of his pocket. "First thing, I'm going to order us some deliveroo. Second thing, we're going to get you some help." He knew Alex struggled with anxiety as well as depression, and he knew Alex worried about spending lots of money on things. All George needed for affection was time together; it wasn't an issue for him if Alex didn't buy him expensive gifts. George just didn't realise that Alex was too scared to spend any money at all these days. 

"I'm sorry," Alex said quietly, closing his eyes. "You must think I'm stupid."

"I think you're stupid for not talking to me about your money anxiety," George said, kissing Alex's hair. "What would you have done if I hadn't come? _Die_?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I'm here now," George said, kissing Alex again. "And I will spend money if you can't. What do you want to eat? I'm thinking probably Italian, you probably need the carbs."

"George, no," Alex pleaded, lifting his head and gazing at George. 

"Stop," said George, reaching out for Alex's hand and squeezing it lovingly. "You either let me buy you something to eat, or you let me take you to the hospital. There's no option C. I'll buy you a cheap option if it'll help, but you're not having nothing."

"Maybe just something from the kids' menu then."

"Okay," said George, adding several kids' meals to his basket. He added a pasta dish for himself and then completed the order, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He stood up and looked down at Alex. "I'm not angry at you, okay? I promise I'm not angry. I know you're trying to cope the best way you know how." He leant down and cupped Alex's face in his hands, gently kissing him. "Now finish drinking the water while I put some heating on."

Alex opened his mouth to protest but George cut him off with a stare. He nodded smally and held the glass to his lips, gulping it down. Maybe George had a point. 


	12. Leclerc/Vettel - wrong name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vettel in this chapter is Fabian (Sebastian's younger brother)
> 
> Charles and Fabian are having sexy times. It gets real awkward real fast.

Fabian smiled down at Charles, watching as Charles fisted the bed sheets and arched his back, whining for _more_. "You like that?" Fabian asked, wanting to give Charles as much toe-curling pleasure as possible. He loved it when Charles was so raw and undone that he could barely form English words anymore.

"Fuck," Charles whimpered, pushing his hips up against Fabian. His orgasm shook through him a few seconds later and he screwed his eyes shut, trembling. He reached his hands up for Fabian, pulling him down for a deep kiss. "I love you, Seb."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick, someone watch that video of Charles's radio "fuck I did mistakes."


	13. Leclerc/Russell - getting dressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George doesn't like his tux. Charles loves it.

"I look stupid in this tux," George said, frowning at himself in the mirror. He straightened his jacket and then turned to Charles, who was still in his underwear, faffing with his hair. "Do I look stupid?"

"You look stupid because you're wearing a clip-on tie," Charles explained, crossing the room. He pulled George's tie off and then fetched an actual bow tie, fastening it around George's neck while George tried to stay as still as he could.

"Is that better?" George checked, pulling away from Charles to check his appearance in the mirror. His new suit was worth thousands of euros, maybe Charles had a point in that the clip-on tie made it look stupid.

"You look like fucking James Bond to me," said Charles, smiling brightly.

"Does that make you a Bond Girl?" George laughed, reaching out and squeezing Charles's bare shoulders. He traced his fingers down Charles's chest, making him shiver.

"I hope so," Charles replied, standing up straight and kissing George, melting in his arms. "I'll be anything you want me to be."

"I want you to be _dressed_," George replied, kissing Charles's forehead before pushing him away. "We have to be out of here in less than ten minutes."

"Yes, Mister Bond," Charles laughed, dressing himself within seconds. 


	14. Leclerc/Verstappen - nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has a nightmare. In the end, it's Max who needs comforting.
> 
> Content warning for discussion of violence.

Max woke with a start when he felt Charles having a nightmare next to him, tugging on his arm. Max had been cuddled up against Charles’s back and Charles grip was so tight that Max couldn’t easily pull away. He hissed at his Alexa to turn the bedroom lamp on and he carefully sat up in the spacious hotel bed, shaking Charles’s shoulder with his free hand. “Charles, wake up,” he said softly. “You’re having a nightmare.”

“No, please,” Charles mumbled, shaking his head. “You’re hurting me. Let me go, _Jos_, please.”

Max’s blood ran cold at the mention of his Father’s name and he violently tugged his hand free from Charles’s grip, shaking Charles’s shoulders with both his hands. “Wake up!”

Charles cried out as his eyes flew open and he screwed them shut again, the light from the lamp making everything sting. He mumbled something and Max couldn’t tell which language it was in.

“Charles?” Max asked, pronouncing his name the same way Charles’s Mother did. He switched to French, wanting Charles to be as comfortable and wanting to sound as little like Jos as he could. “You’re with Max. You’re safe here, you’re so safe, my love.”

Charles frowned and opened his eyes, fighting to get his breathing under control. He rolled onto his side in Max’s arms, cuddling him close. “Max?”

“I’m here,” Max said, trying his best to sound reassuring. He leant down and kissed Charles’s hair. “You had a nightmare. You’re safe now though. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Charles nodded silently, hiding his face against Max’s neck until he got control of his breathing. His heart rate slowed and he relaxed under Max’s grip. His eyelashes tickled Max’s neck and he pulled away slightly. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I hope I didn’t freak you out.”

“You sounded terrified,” Max admitted, moving to lay back down next to Charles. He mirrored Charles’s position, and they both laid on their sides, facing each other and sharing a pillow. “You were talking. Someone called Jos was hurting you.”

“Oh,” Charles said quietly. He was hoping Max wouldn’t have to find out about that.

“Has he ever hurt you in real life?” Max asked tentatively, not sure what he would do if Charles answered with ‘yes.’

“Max… I didn’t want to worry you.”

Max took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “I can handle hearing about my Father. What worries me is you having nightmares because you’re keeping everything bottled up inside you. What did he do to you?”

“He threatened me,” Charles replied quietly.

“Show me what he did.”

Charles bit his lip, knowing he’d upset Max. But, he did as Max requested, trusting Max to tell him if it got too much. He knelt up in bed and Max rolled onto his back. Charles reached down and took Max’s wrist, gently pinning it against the mattress next to his head, and he placed his other hand around Max’s throat, careful not to squeeze him even slightly.

Max held his breath as he listened to Charles’s explanation.

“He had me up against the wall like this,” Charles said, “and he told me to stay away from you. He said I’m a distraction for you and that you’re not gay like me. He squeezed my throat tight and I couldn’t breathe.”

“What did you do?” Max asked, paralysed under Charles’s touch.

“I told him he could go and fuck himself,” Charles replied dryly, lying back down next to Max. “He let go and slapped me. I fell to my knees and he called me pathetic and walked off.”

Max reached out and delicately placed his hand on Charles’s cheek, caressing Charles’s lips with his thumb. “I’m _so_ sorry,” he said, tears threatening the corners of his eyes. He blinked a few times, forcing them away. “When did this happen?”

“Brazil,” Charles replied, turning his head and kissing Max’s fingers. “And you won and I crashed, so between the two of us I think it’s not _me_ who is the distraction.” He shuffled towards Max in the bed and kissed him properly. “You are not your Father. I’m not going to stop seeing you just because he threatened me.”

Max wrapped his arms around Charles and squeezed him, kissing his hair again. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise for his behaviour,” Charles said reassuringly. “He’s a dick. We both know that. Did it scare me at the time? Sure. But am I scared now? No. Nothing he said was true. I’m not pathetic, I’m not a distraction, and based on what we did last night, you are most _definitely_ gay.”

  
  
  



	15. Leclerc/Verstappen - crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @RavenswoodGirl who requested some Max/Charles, with Max maybe in a crash, and "I'm a horrible person I know, but I can't resist a good dose of anguish sometimes."
> 
> Well, good news, I'm also a horrible person, so here you go. Spoiler alert / trigger warning - major character death.

“Charles, are you okay?”

His engineer’s voice felt loud in his ears, cutting through the silence in the aftermath of his car rolling into the barriers. Charles knew he had to get out quick; his Mother would be watching on the television and she’d be scared for Charles. He had to let everyone know that he was okay. “I’m okay.”

Charles unbuckled his seatbelts and groaned as he fell out of his car, hitting the top of his helmet on the gravel; he was upside down. He crawled out of his cockpit towards the light from next to his car and when he was in clear air, carefully pushed himself to his feet. He took an unsteady step forward, piecing together in his mind what had just happened. 

Racing Max was his favourite thing to do. Max never gave him space on the track, in the same way that Max never gave him space in bed. Max wanted the world and Charles was prepared to give it to him. Charles never surrendered easily on track though. He deserved just as much success as Max. 

Charles had been careful to keep his car straight; he’d learned from his crash with Sebastian in Brazil and he’d been afraid for Lewis and Pierre heading up the hill to the finish of the same race. If Charles could just keep his car straight, Max would make his way past; Max was faster at that point in the race and he had the help of DRS. But somehow their wheels had touched. Charles was sent spinning sideways, and Max was launched up into the air. 

“Max!” Charles whirled around, looking for Max’s car. He found the back half of it, two wheels, a rear wing, and a gearbox a couple of metres away. Further down the track was the rest of the car. Charles sprinted over and fell to his knees next to the cockpit. The halo was intact but Max was unconscious, his body limp and his helmet resting against the headrest.

The photo that the media would use in the article about Max’s death was taken later that evening, when Charles collapsed in the paddock. His engagement ring was on a chain around his neck, hidden under his scarlet Ferrari shirt. Max had always said his love life was “nobody’s fucking business.” Charles had crashed into Daniel in the paddock in his rush to get away from the Ferrari garage, from everybody, and the two of them fell to their knees, gripping each other tightly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of ideas for ways Charles could have found out about Max's death but in the end decided to just concentrate on writing the crash part. I didn't want to write the part where Charles has his heart ripped out and stamped on. Might save that for later. ;)


	16. Albon/Norris, LEC/VER - Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to the previous chapter (tl;dr Max is dead). Set on Christmas afternoon.
> 
> Ormenellaneve requested something Christmassy involving Lando/Alex, and Max/Charles. This is what I came up with. Sorry it's not happy.

"It's just not fucking _fair_, is it?" Lando asked, squeezing Alex's hand a little tighter and not expected a response. The two of them had escaped the Norris farm on Christmas afternoon and were wrapped up in coats, scarves, and hats for a walk across the fields. "Max should still be here. Every time my phone vibrates, I expect it to be him. Surprise, Lando, you thought I was gone, didn't you?"

"Yeah..." Alex sighed, clearing his throat. "I don't know what to say. It sucks."

"You don't have to say anything," Lando replied reassuringly. "I'm just sharing how I feel because I know bottling it up is dangerous. It sucks, it's not fair, and I'm so angry that he's _gone_."

"Me too."

\---

Charles locked his car and walked across the dusty car parking area. It was only a twenty minute drive from his Mother's house to the Tête de Chien viewpoint and Charles was relieved that nobody else was there. He had the place to himself. He left the car park and stepped up onto the grassy rocks, walking far enough that he could see his home hundreds of metres below him. He sat down on one of the rocks, close enough to the edge that he could feel the breeze against his skin, but not so close that he was at risk of falling. 

Charles gazed down at the city below him; the little towers with their terracotta roofs, the taller towers dotted between them, and the bright blue of the ocean stretching out into the distance. He used to come up here with Max; they would hike up from the city and bring a picnic and when they got half way up, Max would point out this is the same as the highest point in the Netherlands. Charles would tell him to stop whinging and make him walk another 300m of elevation up to the top, demanding to know once they'd arrived at the top if the view was worth it. Max would always say the view was best wherever Charles was.

Charles didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the rock when a shadow appeared next to him followed by a pair of trainers, obnoxiously bright socks, and the rest of Daniel. Daniel sat down next to him, crossing his legs and smiling. "I thought I might find you here," he quipped. "I just went to your Mother's house. She's worried about you. She says you don't eat or sleep anymore."

Charles shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the ocean and not on Daniel. His Mother was probably right. Where most drivers gained weight over Christmas now that they were eating properly again and weren't racing ever other weekend, Charles had gone the other way. He ate what his Mother gave him when he went to visit but that was about it. Sleeping was almost impossible. 

"You've got to take better care of yourself, mate," Daniel said, trying to sound encouraging rather than accusatory. Charles already looked like shit; Daniel didn't want to make him feel worse. "Max is gone." They'd travelled up to the Netherlands together for the funeral. Max had been cremated and while Jos didn't tell anyone what would happen to Max's ashes, Charles trusted the rest of the family enough to believe that Max would be kept somewhere safe, or scattered somewhere beautiful. He was sure Max's remains wouldn't be put in the trash, which is what Charles was sure Jos would want to do to him if he ever found out the truth.

"Il me manque," Charles said quietly, choosing French words because the English ones didn't properly show how he felt. English speakers said "I miss him" and to Charles it sounded like there was no difference between missing your fiancé and missing a train. In French, manquer is a reflexible verb. _He is missing from me. _

"I miss him too."

Daniel didn't understand. Charles reached under his hoodie, his eyes glassing over, and lifted out the bottom of the chain around his neck. It had two rings on it now. The chain was long enough that he didn't need to take it off to let Daniel see the rings. Charles wasn't ready to take the chain off or let the rings stop touching him.

Daniel reached out and slid his fingers under the rings, holding them still for a closer look. Charles almost bit through his lip while he waited for Daniel to figure it out. Daniel lifted the rings closer to his face and read the engraving on the inside of them. #49. He took a moment to work out the significance and then it hit him like a kick in the chest - Charles's race number was 16. Max's was 33. The two of them added together was 49.

Daniel squeezed the rings and then reached out again, tucking the chain back down the front of Charles's hoodie. "You and Max were engaged," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Charles nodded, bursting into tears. Daniel threw his arms around Charles and pulled him close and tears streamed down his own face too. It all made sense now. Daniel understood why Charles couldn't sleep and why he couldn't eat. "Does anyone else know about you two?" he asked tentatively, feeling physical pain when he felt Charles shake his head against his chest. Daniel swallowed hard, clearing his throat. "Okay. Well, I know, and I'm going to take care of you, okay? I promise."


	17. Leclerc/Verstappen - permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For altissimozucca, who said "please, for the love of everything you find holy, write something happy with the two of them, I'm begging you." This is quite short, but I think it counts as happy. Well, in the end.
> 
> Max desperately wants Charles's phone number. Daniel won't give it to him.

"Do you have Charles's number?" Max asked, trying his best to look cute so that Daniel would be more inclined to help him. The two of them were waiting in an empty corridor before a press conference, doing some emergency waiting around. "Will you give it to me? _Please_?"

"Nope," Daniel replied, shaking his head and making sure his phone was securely in the pocket on his jeans where Max couldn't reach it. 

"Why not?" Max asked, frowning. 

"Because I don't trust you," Daniel replied honestly. "You've been with a different girl every night this week, and Charles Dad died two weeks ago. I won't let him be another notch on your bed post. If you want a cheap fuck, go and see Lando. Charles deserves so much more than what you can offer him right now."

Max frowned more, opening his mouth to protest but having no defence because Daniel was right. He fidgeted a little, straightening his shirt. "I want to do better," he admitted. "Charles isn't a cheap fuck. He's... better."

"He is."

"What do I have to do before you'll trust me?" Max asked, hoping Daniel would give him a concrete, actionable answer and not just 'stop being trash.'

Daniel shrugged, thinking. "Clean your act up. Show me you're not the kind of guy who's going to break his heart. Then I'll consider letting you near him."

"I'll show you," Max said, sounding determined. "I can do better."

"I really hope you can," Daniel replied sadly, plastering a smile on his face when the door to the press conference opened and they were ushered in.

\---

"Do you have Max's number?" Charles asked, trying his best to look cute so that Daniel would be more inclined to help him. The two of them were on Daniel's balcony at his apartment in Monaco.

"Yes, but I'm not giving it to you," Daniel replied.

"Why not?" Charles protested. "Daniel, I... I really like him."

"That's the problem," Daniel explained. "He really likes you too."

"So why won't you give me his number?" Charles whined. "I'm not a child. I'm nearly twenty."

"And your Dad died eight weeks ago," Daniel replied, sighing when Charles flinched. "I'm trying to protect you, Charles. Max is not in a good place right now. If you get involved with him, you're going to get hurt."

"So what? I don't care."

"You need to!" Daniel snapped. "You need to take care of yourself right now. I'm trying my best to look out for you. If you want to go and have terrible sex and get yourself hurt, go right ahead, but if you 'really like him' like you say you do, you need to wait until you're both in a better place."

"_Fine_," Charles replied icily. "I'll just go to bed by myself every night and be lonely for the rest of my life."

"Charles, come on-"

"Fuck off, Dan. I'm going home," Charles said, slamming the balcony door behind him on his way out. 

\---

"I'm sorry I was such a dick to you this year," Charles said, resting against the railings on Daniel's balcony and looking out over the city below. It was the end of the season now. Charles had won Formula 2 and had his Formula 1 drive lined up for the next year. 

"It's okay," Daniel replied; he'd always instantly forgiven Charles for every nasty thing he'd said. "I hope you know I've only ever tried to look out for you."

"Yeah, I get it," Charles said, nodding. "And I do appreciate it. You're a good friend."

Daniel smiled, excusing himself to go and answer the knock at his door. He pulled it open and found Max in the corridor outside.

"Can I come in?" Max asked, clutching some folded up paper in his hand. He followed Daniel inside the house and the two of them stayed in the hallway. "You told me I had to do better. I want to show you." He thrust the papers out towards Daniel.

"What's this?" Daniel asked, unfolding the papers.

"I went to a sexual health clinic," Max explained. "I took every test they could do. I'm clean for everything. I haven't had sex with anyone since the summer break. I haven't even had a drink since Italy. I don't know if it's enough for you, but... I'm really trying, Dan. I don't want to just fuck Charles. I want to take him on dates, and cuddle him, and give him all the affection he deserves. I want to be romantic and I want to support him."

"I see."

"So... will you give me his number?" Max asked, sounding a lot less demanding than the first time he'd tried. He was standing with his back to the balcony and hadn't seen Charles step inside, overhearing their whole conversation.

"No," Daniel replied, grinning.

"Daniel, please," Max pleaded, snatching the papers back. "I'm clean. I know you thought I wouldn't be because I used to sleep around, but I don't do that anymore. I just want an opportunity to try and be with Charles. Why are you laughing at me?"

"Turn around."

"What?" Max did as he was told and spun around, seeing Charles standing just in front of the balcony, the light curtains casting a small glow over him thanks to the low Monaco sun. "Charles!"

"Did you mean all those things you just said?" Charles asked curiously. "You want to take me on a date?"

Max nodded, his words escaping him again. He dropped the papers as Charles crossed the room and threw his arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tight. Max wrapped his arms around Charle's back, pulling him closer. "I'd really like to take you on a date, Charles."

"I'd really like you to take me on a date," Charles replied, getting as close to Max as he could and breathing him in. He mouthed a 'thank you' up at Daniel and then pulled away, taking Max's hand. "Let's give Daniel his apartment back." He smiled brightly and the last thing Daniel heard as he closed the front door behind them was childish giggling. He was glad he'd made them wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My teeth hurt. XD


	18. Norris/Sainz - teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando is nothing if not a people pleaser, so when Carlos asks Lando to fulfil a fantasy, how could Lando possibly say no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally nobody requested this. It's late; I don't know what I'm writing. I think I just wanted a break from all the Lando/Carlos angst in my other fic. I wanted to write something where Lando wasn't the submissive one for a change.

Carlos moaned loudly, the gag in his mouth stopping him from clearly saying please, let alone _por favor_. He was on his knees on the dining room table, completely naked with his hands tied behind his back. Lando was still wearing his suit from the awards dinner, and had one hand around Carlos's erection. Carlos moaned again, slumping forward against Lando.

"Nope," Lando said quietly, pushing against Carlos's shoulder with his free hand. "Sit up straight."

Carlos braced his core and whined as Lando stilled his hand and pulled away. Carlos had wanted Lando to tease him, he hadn't expected Lando would be such a natural at it. Carlos fidgeted, trying to pull his hands free, desperate for some contact with Lando again.

"Ask me nicely."

Carlos tried his best to say please but the gag was stretching his mouth and all he could do was mumble incoherently and try not to dribble too much. He tried his best puppy dog eyes up at Lando and fidgeted forwards on the table slightly. He moaned again when Lando's hand came back, the fabric of his suit sleeve tickling the inside of his thigh.

"Do you want to come now?" Lando asked curiously, tipping his head to one side in question.

Carlos nodded quickly and Lando reached behind Carlos's head with his free hand, unbuckling the gag. "I want to hear you," he said quietly, pulling Carlos's head against his shoulder. Carlos turned his head, his breath hot against Lando's ear. He begged for an orgasm in slurred English and cried out loudly as Lando gave it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love some Leclerc/Verstappen requests with actual settings/moods if anyone wants that. <3


	19. Leclerc - texting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles still texts Jules when he misses him. One day, Jules texts back.

Charles could never bring himself to delete Jules's contact from his phone. He still liked to see Jules's face as he scrolled through his long list of contacts, complete with email address, phone number, and physical address. One day after a shitty race, Charles curled up in the bed in his apartment and swiped through his phone. He opened his text message history, the one that had been completely one-sided for the last few years, and composed a new message.

"Missing you more than usual today xxxxx"

His heart skipped a beat when he got a response a few minutes later.

_"I just got a new number. Who's this? Maybe I'm missing you too. xx"_

"I'm sorry to bother you. This number used to belong to my friend"

_"What happened to your friend? xx"_

"He died"

_"I'm sorry to hear that. I'll try my best to look after his phone number for you. You can always text me if you want to chat or anything. Death really sucks. What was your friend's name?"_

"Jules"

_"What's your name?"_

"Charles"

Charles frowned when his phone lit up with an incoming phone call from Jules's number. He considered declining the call, not wanting to speak to some randomer who had a new phone, but maybe it would be a welcome distraction. Maybe talking to somebody who had no idea who he was would help take his mind off things. He swiped the phone and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Fuck, Charles, it's really you. I just got a new phone and I didn't transfer all the contacts over yet. Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?"

Charles relaxed as he recognised the voice, feeling a sense of relief that Jules's old number would definitely be in safe hands. "I'm okay," he replied. "Just missing Jules a lot today, that's all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll let you decide who the other person in this is.


	20. LEC/VER, NOR/SAI - headbanging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Max are driving back home late at night. Two obnoxious twats pull up next to them at traffic lights, their music blaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick on this youtube video if you want to join in. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9y0F-T95njs

Charles reached one hand up to the roof of the car, stretching as best he could and letting out a big yawn. "I'm so sleepy," he whined, settling his head against the cold, glass window as Max pulled up at a red light. They were on their way back from the Autosport Awards and Charles couldn't wait to crawl into bed. He hadn't won anything this year. He was too _old_ to be crowned Best Rookie, too _crap_ to be crowned Champion, too _foreign_ to be British Driver of the Year and too _boring_ to win Overtake of the Year. He had Max's trophy in his lap.

"We'll be in bed soon," Max said reassuringly, dropping the car down into first gear ready for the lights to change to green.

Charles lifted his head when he felt his window start vibrating and he glanced across to see a bright orange McLaren stopped next to them at the lights, Carlos and Lando inside head banging so hard it was making the car move.

"What the hell?" Max laughed, opening the windows and letting the bass-heavy music into the car.

Charles waved at Lando in the driver's seat and though it took Lando a few seconds to notice him, he opened their windows too at which point the music got a _lot_ louder and Charles rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" Lando shouted, smiling brightly before reaching down and turning the music up. He and Carlos waved at their friends before resuming their head banging. Carlos was doing a small dance in his seat cuddling Lando's trophy.

"Dickheads," Max laughed, pulling away the moment the lights changed, leaving the rocking McLaren stationary because Lando hadn't noticed the lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed some fluff after finishing up the Max/Lando fic earlier. Oh to be an attractive, successful, wealthy early-20s racing driver.


	21. Norris/Sainz - more teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For everyone who enjoyed the first round, and for @RowdyKitty and @Vettelicious who specifically requested more of it.

"I love it when you're like this," Lando said softly, caressing Carlos's cheek and kissing his forehead. It had taken a while to get Carlos secured in this position, but Lando had had lots of practice tying knots. Carlos had started off sitting down with his legs crossed; Lando had tied his ankles together and then secured the rope around Carlos's shoulders so that his knees were near his armpits and his ankles were near his neck. Lando had helped Carlos onto his back and then pulled his arms out to either side, tying them to the edge of the bed. Carlos was curled up like a pretzel, unable to even fidget away from Lando.

"Please let me c-ahh!" Carlos interrupted himself with his screams when Lando tickled both his feet at once. "Ay, Lando!"

"What's that?" Lando asked curiously, leaving Carlos's feet alone and moving his hands lower, back around Carlos's erection. "You have to speak clearly; I'm struggling to understand you."

"I said I want to-ohh!" Carlos screamed again as Lando resumed the tickling of his feet. "Fuck!"

"Nope, still didn't get it," Lando laughed.

Carlos threw his head back against the pillow, struggling to get his breathing under control as Lando's hands went back to his erection. "_Please_, Lando, please can I come?"

"Oh, that's what you want!" Lando smiled. "Of course you can. You should have just _asked_." He moved his hand faster, kneeling over Carlos and licking the bottom of his foot before sucking on his toes, reaching across with his other hand to tickle Carlos's other foot as his orgasm ripped through him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted two chapters to this today in case you want to read the previous one as well. <3


	22. Leclerc/Verstappen - crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Max are involved in a massive crash that threatens to end their lives as well as their careers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to end this after the first scene but then I remembered most of y'all give me grief about cliffhangers and sudden endings. So, I continued, and it's actually kind of happy in the end! Hope you'll forgive me for the ending of the first scene. :)
> 
> And @altissimozucca sorry I keep torturing your favourite pairing. :(

Charles is the last person to get to the hospital on Sunday night. Between debriefs with his team and the Stewards, going through the accident over and over again while it was still fresh in his mind, he insisted he didn't need to go to the medical centre. It was Max who needed medical care; not him. It was Max who was extricated from his car whilst Charles jumped out of his, still high on adrenaline. 

When Charles gets to the hospital he finds Max's closest friends sitting in the corridor outside his room. Lando and Carlos are holding hands, whereas Daniel looks like he doesn't know what to say to Pierre and Pierre looks like he doesn't want to hear it anyway. Charles stands in front of them and they all look up. Pierre's the only one who knows that Charles and Max are engaged and he stands up, reaching his hands out for Charles.

"I'm okay," Charles says for the thousandth time that afternoon and he shies away from Pierre, not wanting his relationship made public and not wanting the comfort. "Why are you all sitting out here while Max is in there on his own?"

When nobody gives him a proper answer, Charles leaves the group and steps inside Max's side room. The amount of equipment surrounding Max makes Charles feel sick; he can't tell where the tubes end and Max's body begins. The most alarming one is the tube in his mouth connected to the ventilator doing his breathing for him.

Charles steps right up to the bed and reaches his hand out, smoothing Max's hair away from his face. He smiles sadly and leans down, kissing Max's forehead, careful not to disturb his oxygen tube. He doesn't realise how hard he's gripping the rail on the side of Max's bed to keep himself upright through the dizziness. 

"Charles?" Lando's voice is quiet and when Charles turns to look at him, Lando is trying hard not to cry. His eyes are glassy and he is biting his lip and Charles gets a reminder of just how young Lando is. Not that Charles or Max are much older; was anyone ever old enough to deal with a situation like this?

"Hey," Charles replies, standing up straight. He tenses as Lando rushes over to him but relaxes again when Lando doesn't try to hug him.

"Max told me about the two of you," Lando says, rubbing his face as his tears subside. "I want to help."

"Did you tell anyone else about us?" Charles asks suspiciously, feeling reassured when Lando shakes his head. "Good. Thank you. Hold his hand."

"I don't want to hurt him," Lando says, tentatively scooping Max's hand with his fingers, delicately rubbing his thumb over Max's knuckles.

"You won't hurt him," Charles says, putting his own hand back on Max's head. Max's face is swollen with bruises. "The crash is what hurt him."

"Yeah, I asked my engineer how many Gs it was. He just said 'all of them.'"

Charles smiles wryly and Lando can't help but laugh a little; it's either that or cry. He'd been behind Charles and Max on track when they'd crashed and Lando had also wrecked his car in the barriers as the debris tore holes in his tyres and made his car impossible to steer. 

"Can you talk to him?" Charles asks, and his speech is slightly slurred now. He's been ignoring the pain in his own head since the crash, but now that he thinks about it maybe it does hurt quite a lot, although isn't that to be expected when you've just had the biggest crash of your career?

"Will he hear me?" Lando asks curiously. Max hasn't squeezed his hand back, and Lando's not sure how conscious he is.

Charles shrugs and steps backwards so Lando can get closer to Max's face. "If he can't hear you, then it doesn't matter if you say anything. But if he can hear you, don't you think he'd want to know what's happening?"

Lando nods and leans in close to Max. "Hey Max," he starts, hesitant at first before he takes a slow breath to calm himself and remind himself that he's talking to someone he's spent hours talking with in the past. "It's me, Lando. We're at the hospital; everyone is okay. You had a crash. A fucking big one; that's why you're here. You're going to be okay, though, I know you are." Lando pauses and licks his lips, not noticing Charles leave the room. "Look, okay, I'll be honest, you might have to miss the next race. And maybe the one after that as well. But then after that you'll probably be fine and you can come back and win again, yeah?"

Outside in the corridor, it's Daniel who makes eye contact with Charles first. "Mate, are you okay?" he asks, standing up.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make a fuss but I think maybe I need to see a doc-" Charles is unconscious before he finishes his sentence, his limp body collapsing onto the hard floor under their feet. He doesn't hear Pierre's screams or the hurried instructions from the Doctors as they scramble to take care of him.

\---

Pierre's standing over Charles's hospital bed, hot tears trickling down his cheeks. It's four o'clock in the morning and Charles is back from surgery. All of Pierre's muscles are screaming at him to sit down, have a rest, maybe even sleep, but he can't. He can't rest until he knows that Max and Charles are going to be okay. Pierre was behind Lando on track but he had more time to avoid the debris. He made it back to the pits with only one puncture in his tyres. The race had already been red flagged by then.

Pierre flinches when he feels Lando's hand on his shoulder and closes his eyes as Lando reaches out, drying his cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Thank you," he says, voice barely more than a whisper.

"You should talk to him," Lando says, trying to sound encouraging. "A wise man told me... if he can't hear you, then it doesn't matter if you say anything. But if he can hear you, don't you think he'd want to know what's happening?"

Pierre lets out a sob but it doesn't turn into more. "Charles told you that," he replies, reaching out and putting his hand on Charles's arm, careful not to knock his IV fluids. "He has this theory. I don't know if I believe it. He thinks you can always hear what's going on, even if you're asleep, or unconscious, or dead. Charles talks to all of them."

"You don't have to believe it, just go along with it. Humour him. If he can hear you right now, he's going to be pissed off if you just stay silent, isn't he?"

Pierre nods, closing his eyes and squeezing Charles's arm lightly to let Charles know he's not on his own in the room. He speaks to Charles in French, not wanting to make Charles work harder to understand English. "You're such an idiot," he says softly. "You should have told someone you didn't feel right after the crash. I swear to God, Charles, if you die, I'll kill myself just so I can see you again and shout at you. Please get better. Please keep fighting. You're not done yet, Charles, you're still needed. Max needs you. _I_ need you. If you can hear me, you've got to keep fighting. Come back to us."

\---

Max always thought he'd be more upset about his F1 career being over, but in reality he was enjoying his slower pace of life now. He'd never returned after the crash; whilst he could still walk short distances, his injuries stopped him from putting the necessary force through the pedals of the car. Even being in the simulator made him feel unwell. He could drive a road car and that was enough for him. Bimbling around the mountains of Southern France with the roof down and his husband Charles in the passenger seat was enough for him now.

Charles hadn't returned to F1 after the crash either, the aftermath of his brain injury left him struggling with fatigue, especially after time in stimulating environments. His reaction times had slowed as well; he was happiest now when sitting in the passenger seat of Max's car, looking out at the landscape as they explored the French mountains around Monaco. They both still wanted to travel and see the world, but knew that they had to do it slowly.

They always watched the races though, and mostly all the qualifying sessions. Curled up on the sofa together in their apartment, the warm sea air coming through the open balcony doors, they watched as Pierre won his first race, smiled as he hugged all of his team, laughed when Pierre's interview started with a "I cannot believe it!", and cried when Pierre dedicated his victory to "my best friends, Max and Charles."


	23. Leclerc/Russell - Baku 2019 FP1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles drives over a drain cover and lifts it out of the track. George drives over the same cover and rips the bottom out of his car. Charles is worried.

“I could have killed you,” Charles said, tears in his eyes. “Or ripped your legs off, or broken your back, or  _ something _ .” He’d managed to grab two seconds with his fiancé in a tunnel between the paddock and the pit lane between FP1 and FP2. He’d seen the footage of George hitting the drain cover he’d lifted, and it had made him feel sick.

“Charles, I’m  _ fine _ ,” George insisted, wrapping his arms around Charles and pulling him close. “I really am. It looked a lot worse on the TV. I saw the drain cover but it was too late to avoid it. The car’s fucked, but I’m fine.”

“I was so worried,” Charles said quietly, hiding his face against George’s shoulder. “I could have-”

“Hey, shush,” George murmured, kissing the top of Charles’s head. “This was not your fault, okay? These things happen. They’ve welded all the drain covers down now so it won’t happen again. I’m not out in FP2 because they’re rebuilding the car, but I want you to go back out there and be as fast as you can, okay? You don’t need to worry about me.”

Charles pulled away, peering up at George. “You’re  _ sure  _ you’re okay?”

“Yes!” George laughed, reaching up and wiping Charles’s cheeks dry. “I love you. You didn’t hurt me. Everything is fine.”

“Okay,” Charles said, finally believing George. He stood up straighter and kissed him quickly before pulling away again. “I’ll go out in FP2 and I’ll try and be fast for you.”

“I’ll be watching it on TV,” George said, straightening Charles’s shirt for him to make him look presentable for the walk back through the paddock to the Ferrari garage. 

FP2 Results

P1 - Charles Leclerc - 1:42.872  
P2 - Sebastian Vettel - +0.324


	24. Norris/Vettel - hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando's in the hospital, and everyone looks to Sebastian for guidance. Sebastian struggles to provide it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was originally going to write something ridiculous and smutty, until I remembered I suck at sex scenes and am far more comfortable writing angst. Whoops.

Sebastian was one of the last to arrive at the hospital; he found most of his fellow drivers sprawled over chairs in the hospital waiting room. Pierre and Daniil were trying their best to console Max; Daniel and Nico had their arms around Carlos; George and Alex had their arms around each other; Charles was standing on his own with an expression that read _I've been here before, _and most of the other drivers were either staring at their phones or staring at the floor.

They all looked up when Sebastian came in, expecting it to be a doctor instead with news of Lando's condition, either good or bad. Sebastian scanned the room, and it was Daniel whose gaze he caught first. Sebastian swallowed thickly, feeling lightheaded. Daniel gave him a look that demanded Sebastian offered some reassurance, some wise words from one of the oldest drivers in the room, but Sebastian had nothing he could say. In an operating theatre on another floor of the hospital, Lando was in surgery. The doctors had removed his jewellery; he'd been wearing a chain around his neck that had been a gift from Sebastian. When Carlos had asked him where he got the expensive chain, Lando had joked that he had a Sugar Daddy but in reality their relationship was nothing like that. Sebastian wondered where the chain was now.

"Sit down before you pass out." Charles's voice was quiet as he approached Sebastian, taking his hand and guiding him to one of the few empty chairs in the room. "Do you need water?"

"No, I'm fine," Sebastian said, sitting down and shrugging out of Charles's grip. "Thank you." He felt helpless; Charles shouldn't have to be the mature one in this situation. Sebastian berated himself for not saying anything to the group and he rubbed his face, dragging his fingers through his thinning hair, trying to make sense of the situation. He barely remembered the podium ceremony and the press conference, his mind too distracted by the TV pictures showing a replay of Lando's crash. It wasn't clear what the cause was - one moment Lando was driving flat out in a straight line, the next he was upside down in the barriers. All Sebastian knew was that showing replays on the TV meant that Lando was conscious.

The door to the waiting room opened again and a surgeon came in, still wearing his scrubs from the operation. Sebastian leapt out of his seat, as did all the other drivers in the room, desperate for an update on Lando. Standing up so quickly made Sebastian feel incredibly dizzy and he helplessly grabbed Charles's hand for support, trying to decipher the surgeon's thick accent. _"He's in the recovery room. You can see him later, but only in small groups_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was trash but I had to get it out of my head. I'll try to update again soon so this will get buried somewhere.


	25. Norris & Sainz - help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something quick and grim whereby Carlos is victim to a home invasion and calls Lando for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had 1,500 words written where Lando and Carlos both died in a crash but decided that was too depressing. Instead, you can have this. It's not much happier, but at least nobody dies at the end of it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand that question.” Alexa’s voice is infuriating and Carlos groans in desperation, pulling again against the bike D-lock trapping his neck against the radiator in his kitchen. He’s bleeding from a gash to his head, the blood already matting his hair and he’s pretty sure his wrist his broken.

“Alexa,” Carlos tries again, pronouncing the words as clearly as he can. “Drop in on Lando Norris.” He screws his eyes shut, the bars in the cast iron radiator digging into his back, and he sighs in relief when he hears the positive ‘bing’ from the Alexa as she connects to the similar device in Lando’s living room.

“Lando?” Carlo says, wrapping his fingers around the metal bike lock to keep it from digging into his neck. “Are you there?”

“Carlos!” Lando’s voice is loud and Carlos’s name is long as Lando moves closer to the device. “It’s nearly midnight. Are you missing me? You want your arse kicked on some late night iRacing?”

“Lando, I need your help,” Carlos says, “how quickly can you get over here?”

“It’s nearly midnight, I might turn into a pumpkin!” Lando sings.

“Fucking hell, Lando, I need your fucking help,” Carlos spits, groaning in frustration at his inability to find a comfortable position to sit in.

“What’s wrong?” The shift in Lando’s tone is immediate; he’s no longer joking around.

Carlos’s blood runs cold as he hears footsteps coming down the hallway; he thought the masked men who forced their way into his home had left. They’d already taken the keys to the McLaren in the driveway, Carlos had heard the engine as the car was driven away. “Ay, Lando, I need you to call the police to my house right now.”

“The police? What the fuck is going on, Carlos?”

“Just do it!” Carlos shouts, locking eyes with the man in the ski mask who’s now standing over him. He’s helpless to do anything as the man reaches down and hits him, his head jerking awkwardly to the side as he falls unconscious.

“Alexa, end call.”

Lando doesn’t recognise the voice as the call cuts out and he sprints up the stairs to his bedroom, grabbing his phone from where it had been charging. He swipes the screen and opens the phone app, smashing 999 and pressing the call button. His heart his pounding and he makes his way back downstairs, breathing heavy. He’s never called the emergency services before.

“Emergency operator, which service do you require?”

“Police,” Lando says, stuffing his feet into his trainers and grabbing his car keys. He’s still wearing the same hoodie and jeans he’s had on all day and he locks his front door, heading for the Clio parked on his drive.

“Police, what is the address of the emergency?”

Lando panics. He doesn’t know Carlos’s address. He knows exactly how to get there, but he can’t remember the house number. “I don’t know,” he says quickly, unlocking his car and climbing inside the passenger. “Something stupid named after a tree.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Lando,” he replies, buckling his seatbelt and starting the car’s engine. He grabs at the air conditioning, twisting it to maximum to demist the windscreen that fogged up as soon as he turned the engine on. It’s a cold night.

“Lando, tell me exactly what’s going on.” The operator’s voice is coming out of the speakers in his car now.

“I don’t know,” Lando replies. “I got an Alexa call from my friend Carlos. He told me to call the Police. He sounded scared; I think there’s someone else in his house. Please, I need your help.”

“Lando, tell me where Carlos lives.”

“I don’t know!” Lando snaps. “Weybridge somewhere. I know how to get there from my house. It’s a two-storey house and he’s got a gravel driveway.”

“Lando, do you have maps on your phone?”

“Yes,” Lando replies. “I can find out his address from my google history. Oh my God.” He taps his phone screen, opening google maps, finding the timeline screen and scrolling back until last weekend when he spent the day at Carlos’s house playing FIFA. “Pine Grove. That’s where he lives. 33 Pine Grove. In Weybridge.”

“Thank you, Lando. And you said Carlos called you to ask for help?”

“On Alexa,” Lando explains, releasing the handbrake and pulling off his drive onto the road. “I don’t know why he didn’t just phone you himself; maybe he can’t get to his phone or it’s broken or something.”

“We need to stick to the facts, Lando.” The operator’s voice is incredibly calm and it helps Lando focus as he heads towards the A3 to get from Guildford to Weybridge. “Carlos called you. What did he say exactly?”

“He said he needed my help,” Lando replies, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “He told me to call the police right now. And I did. I called you guys. Please, you’ve got to help him. He’s Spanish; I’m the only friend he has in this country. He’s at 33 Pine Grove in Weybridge.”

“We’ve despatched a unit to his address.”

Lando tries his best to answer the operator’s questions as he makes the twenty minute drive to Weybridge, the last three quarters of it on his own because his call has ended; he’s given the police all the information he has. When he gets to Carlos’s address there are two police cars parked outside, their sirens casting the street in a blue haze. Lando abandons his car half on the pavement and jogs to Carlos’s driveway where he’s confronted by a tall, heavy-set police officer.

“Is Carlos okay?” Lando asks, trying to see past the police officer who’s twice his size. “Fuck, please, I need to know.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lando,” he replies as hot tears trickle out of the corners of his eyes. “I was the one who called you guys. Where’s Carlos?”

Before the police officer has a chance to respond, Lando’s deafened by the siren from the ambulance arriving. He clamps his hands over his ears and doesn’t fight the police officer as he pushes him out of the way of the ambulance.

Lando stands as still as he can, watching as the green-uniformed paramedics disappear inside the house. He tries his best to answer the police officer’s questions about who he is and what he knows, frustrated that he’s already been over it twice with the control room operator. 

It’s not long before Carlos is carried out of the house on a stretcher, his driveway too gravelly for the wheels of a trolley. Lando ducks away from the police officer and stands at the back of the ambulance, calling up to the paramedic. “Can I come with you? I’m Carlos’s best friend. Please?”

“Jump in.”

Lando climbs into the back of the ambulance and sits down on the seat that’s pointed out to him by the paramedic. He can barely see Carlos’s face under the neck brace, oxygen mask, and bandages, but he can tell Carlos is conscious because his fingers are moving. “Carlos?”

Carlos lifts one hand to his face, clawing at his oxygen mask, trying to get it away from him so he can speak. The paramedic helps him remove it for a few moments. “Lando?”

“I’m here,” Lando says, leaning forward and putting his hand on Carlos’s leg, squeezing him through the blankets. “I’m right here, okay? I called the police like you told me too.” His voice cracks as he speaks and he doesn’t try and fight the fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Carlos replies and Lando cries harder, hating how even in a situation like this it’s Carlos who’s the one to lighten the mood, always wanting to cheer Lando up. Lando sits back when Carlos groans in pain, coughing and writhing on the trolley as the paramedic pulls the mask back down over his face.

“I’m not leaving you, okay? I’m staying right here for you, Carlos,” Lando says, and he means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his life. He stands outside the cubicle in the hospital while the Doctors examine Carlos and he stays watch over Carlos’s bed, not sleeping a wink for over 24 hours until Carlos’s parents arrive from Spain, at which point he takes a thirty minute nap on a bench in a corridor before returning to Carlos’s bedside.


	26. NOR/SAI/VER - Christmas teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos loves being teased; Lando tries to give him a good Christmas present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I keep writing this. Someone request something violent/sad/terrible, please! I'm glad this is only short.
> 
> (I haven't forgotten about the outstanding requests I have, I'm just doing a lot of thinking!)

Carlos is glad his hands are tied above his head, the rope slung over the beam in the ceiling of the country house they're staying in over Christmas; it's the only thing stopping him from collapsing into a heap on the floor. The thick blindfold he's wearing is making all of his other senses work harder and he's fairly sure that if he doesn't get to come soon, he's going to die. Max is on the floor behind him, holding his arse cheeks apart, his mouth hot on his skin and his tongue even hotter inside him. Lando is on the floor in front of him, doing his best to keep Carlos's hips still as he takes Carlos in his mouth.

Carlos isn't above begging and he cries out, his toes curling against the thick rug he's standing on. "Lando, _please_, I can't-" Carlos whines as he feels Lando tap Max's hand, and when the two of them back away from him completely, Carlos shouts in frustration, lifting his feet up off the ground, thrashing against the rope. He thrashes harder when Max and Lando start tickling him; Max is more aggressive but Lando knows where his sensitive spots are.

"Lando," Carlos gasps when the room falls still. "Fucking hell."

"You're talking too much," Lando says, fastening a ball gag in Carlos's mouth, pulling the strap tight around the back of his head. "Can you still breathe?"

Carlos nods, writhing again when they start kissing him all over, everywhere except his cock. He whines when Max bites his underarm hair and laughs against the gag when Lando starts sucking on his toes.

The room falls silent again, and Lando reaches up and removes the blindfold, smiling widely at Carlos. "It's Christmas," he says softly, "so I was thinking maybe you could come all over my face. Would you like that?"

Carlos nods quickly, murmuring incoherently against the gag. _Por favor_.

"Of course," Lando continues, adjusting the rope so Carlos is forced up onto his tiptoes, "that's only if I let you come at all."

Carlos cries out happily as Max grabs his hair, yanking his head back and holding him still as he teases his nipples with his other hand. Lando falls to the carpet, grabbing one of Carlos's ankles tightly and sucking on his toes again. He drags his fingernails over the sole of Carlos's foot and lets go when Carlos fights against him, lifting his legs up off the floor.

Max moves quickly, letting go of Carlos's hair and grabbing his legs, and holding them so Carlos is leaning forwards, his entire bodyweight supported by his arms. Lando wraps his fingers around Carlos's erection, smiling up at Carlos before closing his eyes as he gives Carlos his orgasm, not even flinching as hot come streaks across his face.

Max unties the rope and Carlos collapses down on top of Lando, still trembling in the wake of his orgasm. Lando removes the gag and wishes Carlos a Merry Christmas.


	27. Leclerc/Verstappen - loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Max are too shy and awkward to be open about their feelings. When their friends bully them into opening up, it's worth it in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @altissimozucca who's a constant reminder that not everything I write has to be awful. Sometimes characters are allowed a happy ending. <3

Charles stood on the driver’s parade truck, sunglasses on and his hat pulled low over his face. He had his arms folded across the chest and was scowling at Max. Max was in between Daniel and Alex, and the two of them were hanging off of Max’s every word as he told them a story which was no doubt complete bullshit. Charles seethed as he watched them laugh at Max’s story; there was no way it was that funny.

Pierre approached Charles and leant against the railing next to him, facing outwards and waving to the crowd. “Never in my life have I seen a pole-sitter look so fucking  _ miserable _ ,” he teased. “What’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Charles retorted, gaze still fixed on Max. “It’s  _ him _ .”

“What’s Max done this time?” Pierre asked; he’d known about their on/off fling for a while now, but couldn’t work out why it never turned into a real relationship. They spent half their time smiling and giggling together, and the other half bitching about each other in press conferences. The sexual tension was unbearable and Pierre wanted to lock them in a room until they worked things out.

“Nothing, it’s just… oh, forget about it,” Charles sighed, turning around and joining Pierre in waving to the crowd. 

“Charles, you’ve got to tell him how you feel,” Pierre said, nudging Charles’s side. “I hate seeing you like this, you look so sad. I thought Max made you happy?”

“He makes me feel like shit,” Charles replied, glancing down at the track. Max’s modus operandi was turning up at Charles’s apartment, fucking him, and then disappearing before morning. Charles enjoyed the sex but hated how lonely he felt afterwards, like Max was just using him.

“You’ve got to tell him that,” Pierre insisted. “And if you don’t, then I will. I’m not going to stand around and watch you let yourself be destroyed by him.”

\---

“I just don’t get it,” Max sighed, downing the last of his beer and leaning against the railing on Daniel’s balcony. “Why do I always have to go to his apartment? Why does he never come to mine? Does he think my apartment is disgusting or something?”

“Have you ever invited him over?” Daniel asked, smirking when Max replied with a ‘well not technically, but…’ “Charles is a smart guy but he’s not a mindreader. You’ve got to tell him exactly what you want.”

“I don’t want to scare him away,” Max protested. “It’ll freak him out if I tell him I’m in love with him.”

“Why don’t you let him decide what freaks him out?” Daniel suggested. “You’re not a mindreader either. Just talk to him, be honest, and see what happens. And then start dating properly so we don’t have to have this conversation anymore.”

Max’s eyes widened in panic when he saw Daniel pull his phone out of his pocket. “Daniel, what are you doing? You can’t call him. Fuck, Daniel!”

“Hey Charles,” Daniel smiled into his phone. “Hope I’m not interrupting… oh, you’re just playing FIFA? Awesome. Listen, I’m here with Max, he wants to talk to you… Yeah, I’ll pass you over.” He held the phone out to Max, a big smile on his face.

“I fucking hate you,” Max said coldly, snatching the phone from Daniel and holding it to his ear. “No, not you Charles. Daniel’s just being a little bitch that’s all.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

Max stepped inside Daniel’s apartment and pulled the door shut behind him, locking Daniel out on the balcony where he couldn’t eavesdrop or contribute to the conversation. “Do you think my apartment is disgusting?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never seen your apartment,” Charles replied, and Max felt terrible.

“Would you like to?” Max offered, sitting down on the sofa in Daniel’s living room.

“Are you inviting me?”

Max sighed; Charles was infuriating sometimes. Max could never tell where he stood with Charles. Sometimes Charles would be all over him, and sometimes Charles would be super distant. Max would go to Charles’s apartment, they’d have sex, and then Charles wouldn’t speak to him for three days. 

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked and the concern in his voice was obvious.

“I want you to come to my apartment,” Max said, surprising himself with his openness. He would never admit to following Daniel’s advice, but he told Charles exactly he wanted. “I want you to stay the night. I want to cook you breakfast in the morning. I want to cuddle with you.”

There was a long silence before Charles replied. “Do you really mean that?” he asked tentatively. “Because I want that too. I hate waking up in an empty bed. I’m so happy when I’m with you but then afterwards I feel so lonely and I hate it. I love falling asleep in your arms, but I want to wake up in them too.”

“Come over,” Max said, standing up from the sofa. “Pack a bag and come over. Stay the night.”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Max replied, nodding. “I’ll see you soon.” He ended the call and pulled open the balcony door, shoving Daniel’s phone into his hands. “I still hate you.”

\---

Charles melted into the mattress, folding his arms under the pillow and closing his eyes, smiling as Max’s fingers traced a pattern over his spine. Even though they’d already had a post-sex shower, Charles was still incredibly sensitve and he let out a small gasp as Max’s nails scratched over his spine. Nearly a week after visiting Max’s apartment for the first time, he hadn’t left.

Max smiled and scooted closer to Charles, stilling his hand on Charles’s back and resting his head on Charles’s pillow. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, brushing his nose against Charles’s.

“Don’t say that,” Charles replied, opening his eyes. “I hear that all the time from everyone, and it’s stupid because I have no control over it. I didn’t decide what colour my eyes are or what shape my face is. Say something else.”

Max grinned, leaning forward and kissing Charles’s cheek. He reached one hand under the pillow, lacing his fingers together with Charles’s. “I like the person I am when I’m around you. Is that better?”

“Depends,” Charles replied. “Do you mean it?”

Max gave Charles the smallest of nods, squeezing his fingers before sitting up and hugging Charles properly. “I mean it. I know I’m an arsehole sometimes but when I’m with you, it’s like I have permission to be vulnerable. I love how you make me feel, and I’m pissed off it took us so long to get here.”

Charles rolled onto his back, hugging Max back and smiling up at him. “I thought you just wanted sex,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know you wanted a proper relationship.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s  _ all  _ I want,” Max said. “I want to be your boyfriend. I want you to come home to me at night. I don’t want to lose you to someone who won’t take good care of you like I will.”

“We can do that,” Charles replied, nodding. “But no more leaving in the middle of the night, okay? I really don’t like being on my own.”

“No more leaving in the middle of the night, I promise.” Max dipped his head and kissed Charles, tangling their legs together as he lay back down next to him. He wrapped his arms around Charles protectively and didn’t let himself go to sleep until he heard Charles snoring. He wanted to make sure Charles never felt lonely ever again.


	28. Norris/Verstappen - major character death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @slash_back <3
> 
> Max is watching Lando's twitch live stream when he sees someone in the background...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic description of violence, and major character death.
> 
> There's an alternate ending in the notes at the end of the chapter if you need a happier ending.

Max fidgets on his bed, adjusting his laptop on his knees and running one hand under the bottom of it, enjoying the heat radiating from it. He tilts the screen for a better angle of Lando’s twitch stream and wishes that he were in England with Lando instead of in his apartment in Monaco. He should never have agreed to help Alex look at property, he should have told Alex to figure it out on his own. 

Lando’s smiling a lot - probably because he knows Max is watching - as he calls out usernames for the latest round of Marbles. He’s running another five-round championship and wants to get all thousand spots filled each time, giggling as the entry numbers crawl up past 900 and the text chat fills with messages, most of them !play.

Lando starts the marble run and his screen almost locks up as it tries to render the thousand marbles. Lando commentates excitedly and Max laughs as Lando fidgets in his gaming chair, adjusting his headphones as he shouts about NorrisVerstappenFan33 taking the win, with Lando himself finishing second. 

Max jumps in sync with Lando when Lando sees someone in his peripheral vision and Lando mutes his microphone, jumping out of his gaming chair to confront the man in his living room. Max screams when Lando’s stabbed, the knife going straight through the hoodie Max had bought him for his birthday.

Max scrambled to grab his phone, almost dropping his laptop and he watches in horror as Lando is stabbed again, forced back down into his gaming chair. Lando’s expression is a mixture of pain and confusion and Max swipes at his phone, calling Alex. He can’t call British police from his home in Monaco. 

“Hi Max!”

“Are you in England?” Max asks quickly, his hands shaking.

“Mate, no? I’m in Japan, remember? Why, what’s wrong?”

Max doesn’t answer, ending the call instead. He tries Christian next, he must be in England. Christian had never mentioned anything about going away on holiday over the Christmas break; Christian just wanted to be at home with his family.

“Hi Max. How are you?”

“Christian I need you to call the police,” Max says as Lando writhes in his gaming chair. The man with the knife has disappeared from sight and Lando’s beside himself in agony, bright red blood staining the white fabric of his hoodie. “Lando’s been stabbed.”

“Max, slow down, you’re not making sense. What do you mean Lando’s been stabbed?”

“Please will you call the police?” Max begs. “I can’t do it because I’m not in England. Oh God, he needs an ambulance. Are you in England? Can you call them and get them to go to Lando’s house?”

“Of course,” Christian says, still not understanding Max entirely but believing what he’s saying. “What’s his address?”

“I don’t know,” Max panics. He’d never had anything delivered to Lando’s house and whenever he’d been over there, Lando had picked him up from the train station. Max had some vague memory that the street was named after someone historical but he couldn’t remember who. “Christian, I don’t know his address!”

“I’ll call Zak and find out,” Christian says calmly. “It might take some time, but if you say he’s in danger-”

“He’s been stabbed,” Max cried. “He’s live streaming. There’s someone in his house. Fuck.” Max ends the call and almost drops the phone because his hands are shaking so much. He scrolls through to Carlos’s name his contacts list and presses the ‘call’ button. Carlos lives near Lando, he’s bound to know his address.

Max watches in horror as the man in the knife appears back on screen, yanking Lando’s head back by his hair and slitting his throat. Blood pours out of Lando’s neck, covering his keyboard and desk. His writhing eventually stops as he slumps in his chair, lifeless.

When Carlos answers the phone, it’s to the sound of Max screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Carlos answers the phone, Max screams himself awake, fighting the duvet covers and blankets. He scrambles out of bed, falling onto his hands and knees. “Oh my fucking God.”
> 
> “Max?” Lando’s voice is gentle as he crawls across the mattress, reaching out and putting his hand on Max’s back. “Are you okay? You had another nightmare.”
> 
> Max’s chest his heaving and his heart rate is still through the roof. He looks up at Lando, meets the gaze of his soft blue eyes and sees the concern on his boyfriend’s face. “I’m going to throw up.”


	29. Leclerc/Norris - wedding planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set a couple of years in the future, when Charles and Lando are planning their wedding. Charles has an identity crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @altissimozucca who wanted to see more Charles/Lando

“I’ve booked us an appointment with a tailor,” Charles said, neatly stacking the magazines into a pile on the coffee table. Lando was sprawled out on the sofa playing on his phone and Charles was trying to tidy up around him. “11 o’clock on Monday.”

“Cool,” Lando replied, swiping at his phone. “You know I don’t really mind what we wear for the wedding though. You could turn up in a crappy old t-shirt and jeans and I’d still think you’re beautiful and I’d still marry you. It doesn’t matter what you wear.”

“It matters to  _ me _ ,” Charles snapped, collapsing down onto the sofa. He hid his face in his hands and cried silently.

“Charles, what the hell?” Lando tossed his phone onto the coffee table and climbed onto Charles’s lap, wrapping his arms around Charles’s shoulders and holding him close. Charles often ranted and occasionally they argued, but Charles very rarely cried. Stomping around the house screaming was Lando’s style, not Charles’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Charles whimpered, moving his hands away from his face and around Lando’s back instead, hiding his face against Lando’s collar bone. “I don’t mean to cry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lando said gently, nuzzling Charles’s hair. “You’re allowed to be upset. Wedding planning can be stressful. I’d probably be crying too if I didn’t have my parents helping us.”

Charles squeezed Lando tighter, hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

Lando reached one hand up to the back of Charles’s head, gently stroking his hair. “Will you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asked softly. “Tell me what’s worrying you so much. Is it the suits? I’ll come to the tailor with you. I’ll wear whatever you want me to wear, okay?”

“It’s not the suits,” Charles mumbled, pulling away. He sank back against the sofa and put his hands on Lando’s thighs, taking a shaky breath. He looked up at the ceiling and tried to blink away his tears but it didn’t work. “I want to marry you.”

“That’s good to know,” Lando said, putting his hands on top of Charles’s, “considering we’re organising our wedding. I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

Charles shrugged, licking his lips because his teeth hurt from crying.

“Tell me,” Lando urged, squeezing Charles’s hands. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. You and me, we’re a street gang, remember? A two-person team. Between us we can do anything.”

Charles nodded, his words spilling out in one unpunctuated sentence, barely a gap between each word. “It’s just really awful that I’m not allowed to marry a man in Monaco so I have to go to a foreign country to do it and I just really wish that my Dad could be there.”

Lando leant forward and took Charles in his arms again as a fresh wave of tears came. Charles cried silently, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to breathe. His tears soaked the shoulder of Lando’s t-shirt and the two of them stayed silent for a few minutes while Lando tried to come up with a comforting response. 

“It sucks, that’s all,” Charles said after his tears subsided. He pulled away again, sitting back on the sofa and holding Lando’s hands. “I used to be so proud to be from Monaco, but now I am questioning it. I couldn’t even get the marriage visa here, I had to go all the way to fucking  _ Paris _ . And I am excited to marry you, but we’re getting married in the UK and it’s going to be impossible for me to become British because of the stupid residency requirements.”

“How do you mean?” Lando asked, his eyes glassy from where he’d cried with Charles.

“You have to live in the UK, which - fine, whatever - we can move to the UK, but you can’t leave the UK for more than 90 days in a year. They want you to live there for three years and not be out of the country for more than 270 days. If it’s more than that, then they want you to live in the UK for longer. There’s exceptions if you travel a lot for work like we do, but you have to work for a UK company, which I don’t.”

“Could I become Monegasque?” Lando asked, tracing his thumbs over Charles’s fingers.

“No,” Charles replied, shaking his head. “Not by marriage, at least. You could if you were a woman and we’d been married for ten years. You’d have to go via naturalisation so you’d have to live here for 10 years, and you’d have to stop being British and Belgian because you can’t have dual citizenship in Monaco. And if neither of us are British then our British marriage probably won’t be valid anymore, and we can’t have a fucking Monegasque wedding because of the stupid fucking laws here.”

Lando cut off Charles’s rant with a kiss, pulling his hands up to cup Charles’s face. He knew they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. They had to get married in the UK if they wanted their relationship legally recognised and any children they wanted would have to be through surrogacy in England (which came with its own residential requirements) but even then it would be almost impossible for Charles to become British without giving up his F1 career (or at least moving to a British team).

“We’ll start our own country,” Lando suggested. “We’ll find an island somewhere and we’ll turn it into our own country where we can make our own laws, and that’ll solve all of this. We’ll get our own passports and we won’t let anyone have a visa to come and visit us. Our marriage will be the only one that’s legal in our country. How does that sound?”

“About as realistic as me becoming British,” Charles replied, smirking through his tear-stained cheeks. “Maybe we’ll keep that as our backup plan.”

“Do you even want to become British?” Lando asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Charles replied, sighing. “I think I do. I’m marrying a British man, my children are going to be British. If my family are British, I want to be British too. And I could do a good job at being British. I make a better cup of tea than you do. But on the other hand, I feel like it takes me further away from my Father, you know? I’m Monegasque because of him.”

Lando nodded, understanding. He’d never met Charles’s Father but the way everyone spoke about him, Lando knew he would have had something supportive to say. “Maybe there’s some way we can include him in the ceremony.”

“He’s been dead for nearly six years,” Charles replied, struggling with his imagination.

“We’ll talk to your Mother about it then,” Lando said, squeezing Charles’s hands again. “There are lots of ways we could include him. We could write about him in the program or talk about him in the speeches, or have flowers for him. I went to a wedding once and the couple had all their parents’ and grandparents’ wedding photos on display, I’m sure we could do that at ours. I know he can’t be there in person, but we can still include him. What do you think?”

“I like the wedding photo idea,” Charles replied, his lip trembling, “and the flowers.”

“We’ll do that then,” Lando decided, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Charles’s. “We’ll get the wedding photos from everyone, and we’ll make a flower arrangement just for him, okay? And afterwards when your Mother flies home, she can bring it back with her and put it on his grave so he’ll have the flowers with him.”

Charles nodded, screwing his eyes shut as more tears formed. He pressed himself close to Lando, smiling through his shaky breathing. “I love you so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to a wedding once where both the bride and the groom had lost their own grandfather with less than a month until the wedding. Everyone had a little cry when that was mentioned in the speech.


	30. Leclerc/Norris - life in the UK test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A companion piece for the previous chapter. Lando helps Charles study to take his life in the UK test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive some of the timeline being off in this. It's clearly in the future if Charles is getting UK citizenship (because you have to have lived in the UK for three years beforehand) and he and Lando are happily married. It does, however, reference popular culture of 2019. 
> 
> But I hope you'll forgive me, especially because there's no violence, no death, no crying, no arguing, just a happy couple who spend an evening on the sofa trying to help Charles become more BRITISH.

Charles fidgeted on the sofa to get comfortable, pulling his union jack blanket higher up his chest. He had a cup of tea cradled in his lap and there were fresh scones on the coffee table. Charles still didn’t understand whether it was cream first or jam first, he just knew that one way was right and one way was an act of terrorism.

“Are you ready?” Lando asked, stuffing his feet under Charles’s blanket and opening the lid of his laptop. “Are you feeling British enough?”

“I think so,” Charles replied, taking a sip from his tea. Lando had made it so it was mostly milk, but Charles could just about taste the tea and he took it without sugar, insisting he was ‘sweet enough already.’

“Here we go then,” Lando said, clicking through lifeintheuktests.co.uk. “Question one. Wow, this is difficult.”

“Don’t tell me that!” Charles laughed. “Just give me the question and the multiple choice answers.”

“Who appoints Life Peers?” Lando asked. “The Monarch, The Speaker, The Prime Minister, or The Shadow cabinet? I don’t even know the answer to this one. What’s a Life Peer?”

“They’re Peers whose titles can’t be inherited,” Charles explained. “So they can be in the House of Lords.”

“And the House of Lords is the one with the posh people and the red seats?” Lando checked, squirming when Charles laughed at him. “How am I supposed to know these things? I’m not the one named after an English Prince!”

“I wasn’t named after an English Prince,” Charles protested. “My name is pronounced  _ sharle _ , like a French person. Anyway, I think the answer is the Monarch.”

“Why don’t they just say The Queen?” Lando mumbled as he clicked the radio button and the screen went green. “Okay, question two. Roast beef is a traditional food of which country - Northern Ireland, Scotland, Wales, or England?”

“Ah, les rosbifs!” Charles laughed, remembering the French nickname for English people. He sometimes teased Lando and called him his little roast beef. “England. 100%.”

“I hate you,” Lando replied, clicking the answer which lit up in green. “Question three. When is Saint David’s day? 1st of March, 17th of March, 30th of November, or 23rd of April?”

Charles thought for a moment, not sure of the answer. “17th of March is Saint Patrick’s Day, 23rd of April is when Shakespeare died. Saint David is the Welsh one, right? Let’s say the 30th of November.”

“Wrong!” Lando said smugly. “It’s the 1st of March, but yes, he is the Welsh one. Next question. This one is so obvious I shouldn’t even bother asking it. Which of the following is part of the UK? Wales, St Helena, Channel Islands, or  _ Canada _ ?”

“Wales,” Charles replied without hesitation. “Next question.”

“The UK government hasn’t used the power to suspend the Northern Ireland Assembly, true or false?”

“Has, or has not?” Charles checked, not clear on Lando’s mumbled English.

“Has  _ not _ .”

“False,” Charles replied. “It has. Wasn’t it suspended when you were sorting out the Brexit thing?”

“Don’t fucking remind me,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. If it were up to him, all country borders would disappear and everyone would live together. “Correct. Which flower is associated with England? Thistle, Shamrock, Rose, or Daffodil?”

Charles frowned, taking a big sip of his tea as he considered the answers. “Obviously the Shamrock is for Ireland, and I think the Thistle is for Scotland. Are you an English Rose, or an English Daffodil? I say Daffodil.”

“Wrong,” Lando said, kicking Charles in the leg. “I am your English Rose. Who is Queen Elizabeth II married to? Prince Philip, Prince  _ Sharle _ , Prince William, or Prince Harry?”

“That’s easy,” Charles replied, smirking at Lando’s french pronunciation of Charles. “Prince Philip.”

“The crazy old racist guy,” Lando confirmed, clicking the answer. “Oh, come on, this one’s even easier. I’m not even going to give you the options. When is Christmas Eve?”

“The 24th,” Charles replied.

“Wrong!” Lando said as the screen turned red. “Wait, the 24th is right. I just clicked the wrong button.”

Charles rolled his eyes and sipped more of his drink. “I’m glad you’re not doing the clicking when I take the actual test,” he teased. 

Lando read out the next few questions, one about Crystal Palace, who built the Tower of London, where Robert Burns was from, the name of the act that created the United Kingdom, whether driving a car was a fundamental principle of British life, The Proms, British Overseas Territories, and where the Cenotaph is located. 

“Okay, you’ve got to know this one,” Lando said, fidgeting on the sofa. “Which of these UK landmarks is in Wales? Snowdonia, Loch Lomond, The Lake District, or The Giant’s Causeway?”

“Oh, come on,” Charles said, frustrated. “You’ve been a terrible tour guide, my love, you haven’t taken me to any of those places. I’ve been living here for three years and we’ve only been to London and Brighton.”

“There’s nowhere else to go,” Lando protested. “All these places are boring. You can read about them on the internet.”

“They’re not boring,” Charles insisted. “We’re going to visit all of them. You’re going to take me. I think the Lake District is in England. What’s a Loch?”

“Loch is the Scottish word for Lake.”

“Okay, so that’s in Scotland then,” Charles grinned. “I just have to choose between Snowdonia and The Giant’s Causeway. I don’t know. What are they?”

“Snowdonia is a mountain,” Lando explained, “and The Giant’s Causeway is a bunch of weird-shaped rocks.”

“Ah, the Irish thing!” Charles exclaimed, remembering a youtube documentary he’d watched about places to visit in Northern Ireland. “So the answer must be Snowdonia.” 

“Correct,” Lando said, knowing the answer was right before even clicking it. “I went on a school trip there once. It was shit. Which charity works to preserve important buildings? The National Trust, Age UK, the NSPCC, or The Red Cross?”

“Not The Red Cross,” Charles replied. “And not the NSPCC. I saw an advert for them on TV yesterday, with the saddest-looking child on it. Age UK sounds like it’s for old people, so my answer is the National Trust.”

“Correct,” Lando said, clicking through to the next question. “What the fuck? They seriously expect you to know the answer to this question? It’s a good job I don’t have to take this test, they’d probably take my passport off me.”

“What’s the question?” Charles asked curiously, sipping more of his hot milk that had a slight hint of tea.

“When did the first Christian communities appear in Britain?” Lando asked. “1st and 2nd centuries, 2nd and 3rd centuries, 3rd and 4th centuries, or 4th and 5th centuries. This is insane.”

“Well we started counting the centuries from when Jesus was born,” Charles said, thinking out loud.

“Jesus is fictional,” Lando pointed out. He’d never been religious and had once gotten into trouble at school for asking why he wasn’t allowed to talk to his imaginary friend but adults were.

“So why do we have Before Christ and Anno Domini?” Charles retorted. “But they think Jesus was born in 3 or 4 BC, so I really have no clue what the answer to this question is. The Romans invaded in 55 BC.”

“I thought that was 1066?”

“No, 1066 was the Norman invasion,” Charles explained. “The one where the guy got shot in the eye with an arrow, and the Battle of Hastings that wasn’t in Hastings but was in a field that’s now a town called Battle.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff?” Lando asked suspiciously. 

“Mostly from reading children’s books and Simple Wikipedia,” Charles replied. “The one that’s like English wikipedia but uses shorter sentences and easier words.”

Lando opened a new tab in his web browser and did a Google search for ‘simple wikipedia quantum mechanics’ to read later.

“Let’s go with 2nd and 3rd centuries,” Charles said, admitting defeat. “It’s a complete guess.”

“It was the 3rd and 4th centuries,” Lando replied, reading out the correct answer from the screen. He asked a few more questions about what the Chartists campaigned for, the design of the Scottish flag, 

“Which two British actors have recently won Oscars?” Lando asked. “It’s a good job this one is multiple choice. Leonardo DiCaprio, Colin Firth, Tilda Swinton, and Jacky Stewart?”

“Jacky Stewart is a racing driver,” Charles grinned, grateful that his motorsport knowledge was useful for something, “and Leonardo DiCaprio is American, so the answer must be the other two but I don’t recognise their names. Have we seen any of their films?”

“Tilda Swinton was in Okja,” Lando replied. “That Korean film we watched on Netflix about the little girl and the giant pig. And Colin Firth is that English guy who’s been in everything - Bridget Jones, Love Actually, Kingsman, Mamma Mia. Here’s another easy question for you, I’m not giving you the options. What is the capital of England?”

“London.”

“Correct,” Lando said, clicking through to the last question. “One more. Who was the first Briton to win the Olympic gold medal in the 10,000 metres? David Weir, Mo Farah, Bradley Wiggins, or Sir Chris Hoy?”

Charles thought for a moment, downing the last of his hot milk. “Sir Chris Hoy does cycling, and so does Bradley Wiggins. I know Mo Farah is a runner, we watched him in the London Marathon, but was he the first person to win the medal? Have I seen David Weir?”

Lando nodded. “He won the wheelchair marathon in 2017 and 2018.”

“Wheelchair?” Charles checked. “The answer must be Mo Farah then.”

“Correct,” Lando beamed, finishing the test. “Congratulations, you passed! 87.5%. You are now English.”

“British,” Charles corrected, setting his empty mug down on the coffee table and grabbing a scone. “That was hard.”

“You’re going to do great,” Lando said, trying to sound encouraging. He closed his laptop and placed it on the coffee table, moving to snuggle under the blanket with Charles. “You’ve been studying so hard, as long as you do a good job and mark the right answer, you’ll be fine.”

“Then I just have to take the stupid fucking English language test,” Charles sighed.

“You’ll be great at that too,” Lando said warmly. “You just have to test your speaking and listening, not your reading and writing, and you speak English just fine.”

“I forget words sometimes.”

“We all do.”

“And that’s okay in a press interview, but not in an  _ exam _ ,” Charles pointed out, munching on his scone. “I’m worried that I won’t sound English enough.”

“You don’t have to sound English,” Lando said, reaching for his laptop. He searched for sample questions for the English language speaking and listening exam. “You just have to be understood, and you  _ are  _ understood. You have a great accent; I love the way you speak English.”

Charles frowned, finishing his scone. He knew that if Lando were the examiner Charles would score full marks in everything, but the idea of taking a test made him nervous. He’d worked hard on putting h sounds where they needed to be and leaving them out where they weren’t needed, and on pronouncing the ‘th’ sound that didn’t exist in French, but he still worried that he’d be denied citizenship because he couldn’t say Hedgehog or Squirrel properly.

“Here we go,” Lando said, pulling up a page with sample questions. “I’ll ask you some questions, and remember, you’ve got to answer in  _ English _ . Could you tell me your full name?”

“My full name is Charles Leclerc Norris,” Charles replied.

“That’s a cool name,” Lando grinned. “Which country do you come from?”

“I come from Monaco.”

“How long have you lived here?”

Charles thought for a moment, wanting to get the right format in English. Though he’d been speaking English for years, he still thought in French and he knew sometimes what he said made sense but wasn’t perfect grammar. “I have lived here since four years.”

Lando shook his head. “It’s I have lived here  _ for  _ four years.”

“Why?” Charles asked, frowning. “J’habite ici depuis quatre ans. I live here since four years. But you say I ‘have lived.’”

“I don’t know why,” Lando admitted, unable to explain English grammar, “but it sounds weird when you say ‘since.’”

“Okay,” Charles said, licking his lips and trying again. “I have lived here  _ for  _ four years.”

“Do you work or are you a student?”

“I work,” Charles replied. “I am a racing driver for McLaren Formula 1 team. I have won two championships with them.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” Lando laughed, still happy that he and Charles were team-mates but bitter that he’d finished as runner up in the championship for the last two years running. “These are simple questions, Charles, you’re going to be fine. What do you enjoy doing in your free time?”

“In my free time I enjoy karting, cycling, and studying for my Life in the UK test,” Charles laughed, dusting scone crumbs off his jumper. “Is this really what the questions are like?”

“Yes,” Lando replied, reading through the rest of the page. “You have to listen to a recording by someone talking about a place they’re visiting and you have to talk about your neighbours. These are basic questions. There’s nothing in there about car setup or downforce settings or tyre strategy or anything complicated like that.”

“Will you still love me if I fail all the tests?” Charles asked, kicking Lando in the leg.

“No,” Lando teased, shaking his head. “If you fail these tests, I’m going straight to the court to ask for a divorce. I’ll say ‘your honour, my husband is clearly an idiot, please let me divorce him so I can marry someone smarter.”

“And I will say ‘your honour, I am sorry, we are clearly in the wrong place,’,” Charles laughed. “Being stupid is not a valid reason for a divorce and you can apply for a divorce over the internet on the government website.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sitting around the house full of a cold, all on my own because my boyfriend is working. That's why I've written so much lately. Cough cough splutter send sudofed cough cough.


	31. LEC/VER, ALB/RUS, NOR/SAI - explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad things happen in the paddock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something quick and dirty because I won’t get time to write for a few days. Sorry about all the terror and unanswered questions in this. Use your imagination to fill in the blanks. This definitely has the potential to be a longer piece.

Lando’s walking through the paddock with George when he sees Charles and Carlos giving a TV interview. As they approach the back of the group, Lando dashes over and grabs Carlos’s bum before scuttling back into stride with George, pretending like nothing has happened. Lando and George walk calmly past the TV interview and Lando turns back to look at Carlos, grinning.

“You’re going to get caught out one of these days,” George laughs. 

“It’s fine,” Lando retorts. “Everyone already thinks we’re shagging anyway, so nobody will care when we do come out. It’d be the same with you and Alex. Imagine the controversy, though, when you move to Mercedes and everyone finds out you’re engaged to a Red Bull driver. Oh, boy. At least Carlos and I are allowed to be friends.”

“Maybe I can convince them that I should partner Alex at Red Bull?” George suggests, knowing how ridiculous his idea is. “Should be an easy sell, right? Yeah, hi Christian, hi Dr Marko, I know you’ve spent millions on this Verstappen guy, but he’s crap and you should totally get me to drive instead.”

Lando laughs and thumps George in the arm. “Put that on a powerpoint slide and the drive will be yours.”

George shoves Lando back and he stumbles. As Lando tries to regain his balance, glaring at George, they’re both knocked off their feet by an explosion. Lando’s blown to the ground and he lays still, stunned, for several seconds while he tries to work out what has just happened. The air is thick with dust and smoke and his ears are ringing. Lando reaches a hand around the back of his head and when he looks at his fingers, they’re covered in blood.

“Fucking hell, Land,” George mutters, crawling over to Lando. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t hear you,” Lando replies, trying to sit up. “I’m bleeding!” He shows George his bloodied hand and George pushes him back down to the concrete.

George puts his hand on Lando’s chest to keep him still as he looks around, trying to work out what has happened. There are people stumbling around everywhere, though George isn’t sure if they’re confused or if his vision is off because the ground looks like it’s moving too. He blinks a few times and wipes dust out of his eyes.

Out of the smoke, George sees Carlos and Charles emerge. Carlos has his arm around Charles’s shoulder and Charles is helping to keep him upright. George calls to them and they approach, Carlos slumping to the ground next to Lando.

“What the hell was that?!” Charles shouts, reaching out and putting his hand on George’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Lando fights from under George’s hand and he sits up, grabbing at Carlos. His face is covered in blood and he has glass shards sticking through his polo shirt. As the dust settles a little bit, Lando’s hearing returns. “Carlos, oh my God, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Carlos replies, disoriented. 

George carefully pushes himself to his feet, and the ground feels more solid. He reaches to grab Charles’s arm but Charles runs away from him. George looks past Charles and sees the Energy Station engulfed in flames. The windows are blown out and there are flames licking up the side of the wood, thick smoke billowing up into the sky.

“Max!” Charles screams his boyfriend’s name as he hurries towards the building, George following closely behind. His best friend is in there too and Charles is desperate. He fights George as George grabs him and pulls him back.

“George, fuck, let me go,” Charles shouts, elbowing George in the ribs. “My boyfriend is in there.”

“I know,” George replies, tightening his grip. “Mine too. You’ll die if you go in there, Charles.”

Carlos pushes himself to his feet as he hears the shouting around the Energy Station. The heat is intense and he struggles to make it over to George and Charles. His heart races as he tries to think where his friends are. He’d seen Max and Alex go in when he was getting mic’d up for his interview, Pierre following closely behind. He can’t remember if Daniil was with them or not. 

Charles elbows George again and George falls backwards into Carlos. As Charles rushes into the burning building, George sinks to the ground. He doesn’t realise the loud screams he can hear are his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No alternative ending where everything is fine this time.


	32. Leclerc/Verstappen - blind date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Charles are set up on a blind date by their friends in an effort to make them uncomfortable. Max and Charles come up with a plan to make their friends feel even more uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @altissimozucca who requested this. I hope I did okay! It's pretty much just crack fic ahaha.

“But I don’t want to go on a date!” Max whined, wishing instead he could just go back to his room and spend the night fantasising about Charles and wanking himself into a stupor instead. “Honestly, Alex, I know you’re just trying to help, but not everyone is going to get a dreamy boyfriend like you.”

“He’s not  _ that  _ dreamy,” Alex retorted. He’d use lots of words to describe George but dreamy was not one of them. “Besides, you’ll have fun tonight. We’ve found you someone who’s really good-looking, really charming, has a cute smile, laughs easily, just the kind of person you need.”

“What’s the catch?” Max asked suspiciously. “I know what you fucking british guys are like. There’s got to be a catch. What is it?”

“Okay, well, first of all, I’m  _ Thai, _ ” Alex protested. “Secondly, there’s no catch. Just you, this guy, and we’ve booked you a table. Eight o’clock. Please do not be late.”

“Will you tell me anything about him?!”

“Of course, what do you want to know?” Alex laughed. “He’s pretty simple. He likes cars. He understands how you have to be discreet because of your job.”

“It’s not that guy from marketing, is it?”

“Which guy?”

“You know which guy,” Max hissed. “Everyone knows which guy. The  _ hot  _ one.”

Alex smirked. “You mean the hot,  _ married  _ one? No, it’s not him. It’s nobody from Red Bull, actually.”

“Will you at least tell me his name?”

“No,” Alex replied, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you it’s a blind date, and he doesn’t know it’s you who’ll be showing up. Please try not to be a dick to him.”

“When am I ever a dick to people?” Max laughed. “I hate you so much right now.” He frowned a little and then admitted defeat. “ _ Fine _ . I’ll go on the stupid date. But I’m not promising I’ll have fun, and if the guy is a dick, I won’t be afraid to tell him that. You’d better have picked well, Alex.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Alex replied, trying his best to sound angelic.

“Not even slightly.”

\---

“Is this a joke?” Charles asked, sliding into the booth in the restaurant opposite Max. “Are you seriously my blind date?”

“If it’s that disgusting to you, I can always leave,” Max offered, moving to stand up. He hesitated when Charles grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down, butterflies in his tummy.

“I don’t think you’re disgusting,” Charles said quickly, letting his finger linger on Max’s arm for longer than they technically needed to. “The total opposite, actually.”

“I’m going to kill Alex in his sleep,” Max said, gripping Charles’s hand as Charles finally let go of his arm. Charles didn’t pull away and Max smiled; Charles’s hand was a lot warmer than his. “What did Pierre tell you about this?”

“Not much,” Charles replied, tracing his thumb over Max’s knuckles. “He told me he was sick of me complaining about being single and that he was sending me on a blind date with someone who thought I was hot.”

“How does Pierre know I think you’re hot?” Max asked, blushing the moment the question fell out of his mouth.

“Oh, so you  _ do  _ think I’m hot?” Charles asked curiously. “I thought Pierre was lying.”

“Well, um, I mean,” Max fumbled, not even having the Dutch words to dig him out of that hole. “You’re  _ okay _ , I guess.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Just okay? You’re here on a date, maybe about to get laid for the first time in weeks, and you’re telling me I look just okay?” 

“Fuck you,” Max said, pulling his hand away. “I didn’t come on a date just to get laid.”

“But you do want to have sex, right?” Charles replied, lowering his voice and dipping his head, peering up through his eyelashes at Max. “Because we can do that, if you want.”

Max shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sat on his hands. “I think they set us up on this date as a prank,” he said tentatively. “Because I spend all my time trash-talking you, I think they thought it would be funny if I had to go on a date with you.”

“Do you want to take revenge on them?” Charles asked curiously, sitting back in his seat, nudging Max’s foot under the table. “Because I can think of a couple of ways to do that.”

“Go on.”

\---

Charles laughed as he stripped down to his underwear in his hotel room, Max following closely behind. Charles grabbed his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and opened the camera, tossing it to Max. “How do you want me?” he asked, reaching his hands up and messing up his hair.

“On your knees,” Max replied, standing in front of Charles. He waited until Charles was on his knees and then reached out, roughly grabbing Charles’s jaw. He traced his thumb over Charles’s lips and gasped when Charles sucked his thumb into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it.

Max pushed Charles’s head back and Charles looked up at the camera, trying his best sultry eyes as Max took a photo of him on his knees.

“How’s that?” Charles checked, scratching his fingers over Max’s hips.

Max shook his head. “You can still tell I’m wearing my underwear.”

“Take them off then,” Charles said, hooking his fingers inside the waistband to Max’s shorts and shoving them down to his ankles. He pressed his chin against Max’s stomach, gazing up at him again. “Better?”

“Perfect,” Max replied, taking the photo. “My turn.” He helped Charles up to his feet and handed him the phone. “What should I do?”

“Get on the bed,” Charles instructed. He climbed onto the bed too and sat down against the headboard. “Come and sit on my lap.” He switched the camera to selfie mode and guided Max down onto his lap, his back pressed against Charles’s chest.

Charles wrapped one arm around Max’s hips, holding him close and Max tried his best to look like he was having fun as Charles took a selfie of them from the waist up. Charles let go and checked the photo, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked nervously.

“It looks too fake,” Charles replied. “Let’s try it again.” He took the same photo again but this time wrapped his fingers around Max’s erection. As he flicked his thumb over Max’s tip, Max moaned and Charles took the photo. “That’s better,” he said, letting go of Max and checking his phone again.

“What do we do now?” Max asked, climbing off the bed to get his own phone, seeing that Charles had already sent him the photo of him on his knees.

“You sent that to Alex, I’ll send this to Pierre, we thank them for setting us up, and then we put our phones on silent and fuck each other,” Charles said nonchalantly, tapping at his phone screen. “Do you still want me on my knees?”


	33. Multiple pairings - bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crack fic for @altissimozucca

Daniel sipped his beer and traced his fingers over Sebastian’s shoulder, listening intently to Lando’s latest theory about who else was dating in the F1 paddock. Everyone was sitting around on bean bags in the garden to Daniel and Sebastian’s swiss farmhouse. The barbecue was cooling down and they’d moved onto just drinking (with the occasional ice cream for Lando, who was still teetotal.)

Carlos was sitting on a bean bag, watching his fiancé Lando wander around the group, waving his arms around as he rambled about whether Kevin would find anyone else now that Nico had gone or whether he’d die alone in a pit of Danish Misery.

Alex was stretched out on the grass, propping himself up on his elbows and George was laid across his lap, struggling to keep his eyes open. Alex laughed when Lando asked if anyone would ever seriously consider fucking Lance.

Pierre and Daniil were a snuggles together on another bean bag, and Pierre protested when Lando said Esteban was the most fuckable French driver on the grid. Pierre explained what he thought of Esteban and Lando learned the French version of the C word.

“And then of course we have you two,” Lando said, stopping in front of Charles and Max, who were both sitting cross legged on the grass, close enough to be friends but not close enough to be boyfriends.

“Us two?” Max asked curiously. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve got a bet going,” Lando explained. “Me and Daniel. Five hundred euros says you’ll be dating by the end of the season.”

“What do you mean, you were betting on when we'd get together? We've been dating for six months,” Charles said, flinching when Lando shrieked.

“I knew it!” Lando said proudly, turning to Daniel. “That’s five hundred euros you freaking owe me.”

Max looked at Daniel, horrified. “You thought we wouldn’t date?”

“I’m sorry!” Daniel laughed. “I didn’t think you’d be Charles’s type.”

“What do you think my type is?” Charles asked curiously, moving to sit closer to Max, resting his hand on Max’s leg.

“Not Max?”

“Fuck you,” Max laughed as Lando marched over to Daniel and grabbed at his hips, trying to find which pocket he kept his wallet in.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Daniel grinned, shoving Lando away. “How about we make it double or quits?”

“What does that mean?” Lando asked suspiciously, moving to sit back down next to Carlos. “I want my five hundred euros.”

“It means I get a chance to win my money back,” Daniel explained. “One more bet. Who asked who out first?”

“Great question,” Lando said, looking suspiciously at Charles and Max. “Who asked who out first? Very interesting. Max has no filter when he speaks, and Charles is not shy about trying to get people into bed, but who suggested the first date?”

“I think Max,” Alex offered, and George, Carlos, and Sebastian agreed with him.

“I think Charles,” Daniil replied, getting nod from Daniel.

Lando looked at Pierre suspiciously. “What do you think?” he asked. “You’ve known them both for years. Who suggested the first date?”

“Don’t ask me!” Pierre laughed, hiding his face in his hands. “I only just found out like you that they’re dating. They kept it a massive secret.”

“Well if you think it’s Charles, then I have to say it’s Max,” Lando said, admitting defeat. “What’s the answer?”

“Technically, neither of us,” Max shrugged, wrapping his arm around Charles’s shoulder.

“How does that work?”

“I set them up,” Sebastian said simply. “Called them both to my room after Austria, told them they should get over their on track frustrations by fucking, and now I guess here we are.”

“You bastard!” Daniel smirked, shoving Sebastian off the bean bag. “You just cost me five hundred euros!”


	34. Gasly/Verstappen - puppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Pierre get a puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @altissimozucca who always reads my angst and then demands fluff. <3

Pierre turned off the car engine and climbed out, slamming the door and running up the driveway to the large house he shared with Max. He'd almost caused a crash on the drive back from the airport, such was his anticipation for meeting their new family member. He was incredibly jealous that Max got to meet little Lion before he did and they'd spent hours bickering over whether they were going to teach the puppy French or Dutch. Months of research had led them to a breeder who was surprisingly local and Pierre had almost thrown his phone at the wall when Max told him to fly back quick because the puppy had come two days early.

Pierre burst in through the front door and shouted for Max. He got a response of "in the kitchen!" and Pierre hurried through to find Max lying on his back with an enormous ball of fluff lying on his chest. Pierre let out the highest-pitched squeak of his life and he knelt down next to Max. He reached out and petted Lion, his heart melting when his big black fluffy head lifted and his tongue felt out of his mouth.

"He's perfect, isn't he?" Max asked, dragging his fingers over the thick brown fur.

"He's _huge_," Pierre replied. "Look at the size of his paws. My God." He grinned and lifted Lion's paw; it felt almost as big as his own fist. "How big is he going to get again?"

"An adult Leonberger weighs as much as we do," Max laughed, groaning when Lion kicked him in the ribs as he scrambled off of his chest and across the room, having just spotted another toy to play with.

Pierre pulled Max up into a sitting position and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, kissing his cheek. "I'm so jealous that you go to meet him before I did."

"You're here now, that's the important part," Max said, standing up and grabbing Pierre's hand, hauling him to his feet as well. "Come on; I didn't show him the garden yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.holdthefrontpage.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/Juno-e1526483694359.jpg This is a leonberger puppy.
> 
> https://imgix.bustle.com/uploads/getty/2018/7/26/b473746d-9174-45b7-9dbf-0dd5ea066b07-getty-105639227.jpg this is an adult-sized doggo. Max and Pierre are in for a wild life together. :D


	35. Norris/Sainz - gagged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando likes humiliation. Carlos is a bondage minimalist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay a 100 word drabble. These are hard.

Carlos's favourite game to play is "what's the minimum I need to turn Lando into a quivering mess?" It turns out the answer is "an o-ring gag and some honey on his tongue." Carlos doesn't even need to tie Lando's hands behind his back. Carlos sits with Lando on his lap and Lando's drooling on himself more than he ever has and he's harder than Carlos has ever seen him and Lando moans and thrusts his hips towards Carlos's touch, screwing his eyes shut and dropping his head against Carlos's shoulder, drooling even more as he comes across Carlos's hands.


	36. Leclerc/Verstappen - first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles wants Max. Max wants Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flexing my creative muscles with lots of description in this about feeling and taste and touch and stuff. The only dialogue in it apart from Max's name is ripped straight from a quote I found on pinterest. I read it and this was the first thing that popped into my mind. I blame @altissimozucca for dragging me kicking and screaming onto the lestappen ship.

Charles chased after Max through the paddock, not caring how wet he was getting from the rain that was hammering on the ground, bouncing nearly as high as his knees. He longed for Max but knew Max was still holding back. Every time they’d come close to admitting their feelings for each other, Max had backed out, mumbling something about what his Father would think or what the media would think or what the team would think or why it could never work between them. Charles wasn’t even sure if Max knew he liked him as much as he did.

Charles grabbed Max’s wrist and dragged him under cover, standing in a walkway in the pit building connecting the paddock with the pit lane. The sound of the rain was quieter here and nobody was around. Charles pushed Max up against the wall, squeezing Max’s shoulders as his chest heaved. He leant in close, so close he could still smell the champagne on Max from the podium ceremony. He lips were so close to Max's, it would take the tiniest of movements to kiss him.

Max put his hands on Charles’s chest to push him away but Charles just pushed him harder into the cool brick wall of the building. Max met Charles’s gaze and felt like Charles could see inside him. He couldn’t hide his insecurities and his fear anymore and he curled his hands into fists, gripping Charles’s scarlet red polo shirt. He could taste the champagne on Charles’s breath and though he longed for it, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss Charles.

Charles pressed himself so close to Max that Max’s fists brushed against his own polo shirt and Charles moved his hands to cup Max’s jaw. He slid his fingers either side of Max’s ears and brushed his thumbs over Max’s cheeks, tilting his head up. He inhaled Max’s breath and stepped even closer, his toes pressed against Max’s. 

“What would you ask for, Max, if you knew the answer would be Yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also quite like this quote. "When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives."


	37. Leclerc/Verstappen - comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For ZDcookie_996 who said: Would you maybe consider doing a Charles/Max where Max comforts his boyfriend after Antione dies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing RPF is really uncomfortable sometimes when you write about sad things from the characters's IRL lives. So let's not focus on all the grief that goes along with losing a friend, let's focus on the fact that when you are grieving, tiny things can remind you of who you've lost.

Charles threw his phone across the sofa, a string of french expletives falling out of his mouth, loud enough to disturb Max from where he was on the simulator. Charles had been scrolling through instagram and texting Pierre after getting back from a boat show in Germany. He was tired and wanted to go to bed, but was waiting for Max to finish up his time on the simulator. Max had begged for 'five more minutes' six times now.

Upon hearing Charles's cry, Max immediately paused the simulator and climbed out of it, shuffling across the hardwood floor in his socks and crashing down on the sofa next to Charles. His new glasses made his eyes look bigger and Max felt his chest tighten when he saw the pain in Charles's expression. "What's wrong?" Max asked tentatively, reaching his arm around Charles's shoulder.

Charles chewed at his lip and pulled his glasses off, folding them shut and holding them out in front of him, tracing his fingers over the delicate tortoiseshell rim. "Nothing."

"Does Pierre not like them?" Max asked gently.

Charles shrugged, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Pierre said they make me look like Anthoine," he said, reaching out and putting his glasses down on the coffee table. He fidgeted back on the sofa and pulled Max into a cuddle, hiding his face against Max's chest as hot tears spilled down his cheeks. "I wasn't _trying _to look like him, I promise-"

"Ssh, it's okay," Max soothed, rubbing Charles's back and kissing the top of his head. "They're kind of similar, but only because they're what's fashionable these days. Big and brown describes _so many _pairs of glasses. Look." He reached out and lifted Charles's glasses, putting them on his own face. The prescription strength was weak and Max could still see Charles through them. "How do I look? Do I look like Anthoine?"

Charles pulled away from Max and lifted his head, smirking through his tears. "You look ridiculous," he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his hoodie. The bridge of the glasses didn't even touch Max's nose because the bottom of the rims sat on top of his high cheekbones.

"Put them back on," Max said, pulling the glasses off his face and holding them out to Charles. "I'm sorry Pierre upset you. For what it's worth, _I _don't think you look like Anthoine. I think you look beautiful whether you're wearing glasses or not. I just want you to be able to see properly."

Charles shoved his glasses up his nose and then scooted across the sofa, sitting as close to Max as he could. "I miss him," he said quietly, chewing at his lip again. Charles took a slow breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling, dropping his head against the back of the sofa. He turned his head to the side and glanced at Max, smiling sadly when Max took his hand in both of his, stroking the back of it with his fingers. "But being here with you helps."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really love some crack fic / fluffy / positive requests to have a go at!


	38. Leclerc/Verstappen - piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max buys Charles a piano. Charles does a happy cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw/read something somewhere where Charles says he plays "a bit of piano and guitar." Let's all pretend that he's really into his classical piano.

"You're _sure_ you can't see anything?" Max checked, moving to stand in front of Charles. Charles had insisted he was capable of putting the blindfold on himself but Max was still skeptical. He'd worked hard on the surprise and he didn't want it to be ruined by Charles cheating. He wanted a genuine reaction for something that had taken weeks of research, emails, phone calls, and sneaking strangers into and back out of their house while Charles was visiting his Mother.

"Max, please, I can't see anything," Charles said, tentatively reaching out in front of him and relaxing when his hands found Max's chest. He reached both his hands up and squeezed Max's shoulders. "Is that you, Max?" he asked playfully.

"Come on." Max shrugged Charles off and then gently took him by the hand, guiding him up the steps and into the house they shared. When Charles had returned from visiting his Mother, Max had met him on the driveway and told him there was a 'surprise' in the house. Max led Charles through to the large living room at the back of the house. There were doors across the full width of the room which opened up onto a terrace with a small swimming pool. The sofa was large enough to sit them and all of their friends but half the room was still empty. They'd only been living together for a month and didn't yet have all the furniture they wanted. Charles had suggested filling the space with a marble statue of an F1 car.

Charles stopped when Max stopped and he squeezed Max's hand. "Can I take my blindfold off now? I want to see what you've done to my house."

"Our house," Max corrected. Though they lived in Monaco, Max had put up most of the money for the purchase. "You can take your blindfold off now."

Charles pulled the fabric away from his eyes, letting it hang around his neck and he immediately welled up when he saw the shiny black baby grand piano in front of him. "What the hell?"

"Is it the wrong one?" Max asked, his eyes widening in fear. He'd learned about pianos from Lewis and Lewis had recommended a company. Max's pulse started to race but he calmed when Charles threw his arms around him and smiled against his neck.

"It's perfect," Charles replied, squeezing Max before pulling away. "It's beautiful. I love it. You did this for me? How did you get it into the house?"

"This morning was chaos," Max admitted, following Charles over to the piano and smiling as Charles sat himself down on the stool, stretching out his fingers and gently brushing the white keys of the piano. "I got a text from the installers saying they could come early which would have been fine if you didn't insist on having a lie-in instead of going to your Mother's at the time we discussed. You left and the installers turned up literally ten minutes later."

Charles looked up at Max and grinned. "It did feel like you were trying to get rid of me."

"So you like it?" Max asked, biting his lip. "It's definitely okay?"

Charles nodded and reached his hand out to Max, smiling at his engagement ring. "It's perfect," he whispered, squeezing Max's hand before pulling away and stretching his fingers again.

"Will you play something for me?" Max asked, crouching down next to Charles and peering up at him.

Charles reached out again and brushed his fingers through Max's hair, thinking through his mental repertoire of music. The first one he landed on was Sheep May Safely Graze and he gently caressed Max's cheek before kissing his forehead and turning his attention back to the piano. He reached his fingers out for the opening chord and pressed the keys, flinching when the sound was barely audible.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Charles replied, "I just need to get used to a real piano again after that digital keyboard thing I've been using. Honestly, Max, this is perfect." Charles took a slow breath and pressed the keys again, more confident this time. The sound was to his liking and he continued the piece, stopping after almost a minute and bursting into tears.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Max asked, jumping up and sitting on the stool next to Charles. He wrapped his arms around Charles's shoulders and hugged him close, kissing his hair. "It's okay. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just really happy," Charles replied, smiling through his tears. "I know how much work you must have done to get this for me, and I appreciate it so much. Max, you have no idea how much this means to me. I'm so excited to spend the rest of my life with you and I'm so happy that we have this space to come back to between races. I've wanted a real piano again for so long, and you got me one and it's all mine and it's perfect and I love you."

"Just as long as you're happy with it," Max said softly, wiping Charles's tears away from his eyes. "Now are you going to play nice things on it or are you going to teach me how to play Coldplay?"


	39. Leclerc/Verstappen - major character death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the lestappen shippers, I'm sorry. <3

Max felt numb until he got back to the hotel, the news not really sinking in. All the words blurred together in his head - brain death, organ donation, it made so much sense whilst at the same time making no sense. Max didn't understand how Charles could be fine one moment, and then the next be in surgery having his vital organs removed. Part of Max knew in the long run that good things would come from Charles's death; if he even saved one life then his death wouldn't have been a waste.

When he got back to the hotel, it hit him. Charles was gone. His husband was gone. Max found himself in Daniel's hotel room with Pierre; Max was in the middle with his face hidden against Daniel's chest as Pierre rubbed his back and his body shook with how hard he was crying. Pierre was devastated over losing his best friend and Daniel didn't have any words to make anyone feel better. Nobody knew that Charles and Max were married, they just knew that Charles was gone and Max wasn't handling it well.

"I'm so sorry, mate," Daniel said sympathetically, nuzzling his face against the top of Max's head. He'd seen the two of them having lunch together in the paddock and had teased Max about going into enemy territory. The media always wanted them to hate each other more than they did. It was Pierre who'd brought them together, getting them drunk at his birthday celebrations just before winter testing a few years ago. Pierre didn't know they'd continued to see each other without him.

There was a knock at the door and then it was pushed open; Arthur appeared and Daniel's heart ached when he looked across at him. Arthur was the same age now as Charles had been when their Father had passed, and 19 was much too young to be saying goodbye to a family member.

Daniel pushed Max away slightly and Max crawled backwards on the bed, tucking his knees to his chest and staring down at the mattress. Pierre patted the mattress for Arthur to join them.

"No, I can't stay long," Arthur said, and he reached into his pocket and fished out a small plastic bag that had Charles's jewellery in it. "Max, were you and Charles in love with each other?"

Daniel looked at Arthur and then at Max. Max opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He closed his mouth again and bit his lip hard, nodding.

"You should have this then, shouldn't you?" Arthur said, his voice wavering as he reached into the plastic bag, past the beaded bracelets and pulled out a gold chain that had a gold wedding band on it. "It's engraved," Arthur said, reading the inside of the ring. "CL. MV. 12.01.19. What happened last January?"

When Max didn't answer, Pierre reached out and gently squeezed his arm. "Max, what's that date?"

Max looked at Pierre, his lip trembling between his teeth as more tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He reached out with his free hand and took Pierre's hand, pulling it to his chest.

Pierre felt the lump under his fingers and he reached under the collar of Max's blue polo shirt, pulling out the chain with the gold wedding ring hanging from it. Pierre read the engraving, the French translation of "to have and to hold" and his mind immediately understood the rest of the wedding vows. 

Pierre tucked the ring safely back under Max's polo shirt and then held his hand out to Arthur. "Give me that," he said softly and when Arthur handed the chain over, Pierre delicately hung it over Max's head, tucking the ring underneath his polo shirt.

Max hid his face in his hands and collapsed against Pierre as he broke down in tears, crying so hard that it made his teeth hurt. Pierre wrapped his arms around Max's and held him close, kissing the top of his head as he looked at Daniel and Arthur. "The twelfth of January is when they got married."


	40. Norris/Ricciardo - first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a drabble. You can fill the rest of it in your head. Dialogue stolen from a video I watched on the internet. Everyone is having fun here.

They're down to their underwear before Lando can say anything coherent. He's noisy as Daniel tickles him, warm hands sliding over Lando's arching body. Daniel pulls Lando's shorts off, nipping at his feet before kissing his way back up.

"Wait!" Lando chokes out, hiding his face in his hands despite his enormous grin. "I'm not gay."

Daniel laughs against Lando's hip and crawls on top of him, pulling Lando's hands away. He grinds his hips against Lando's, teasing another moan out of him. "Why aren't you gay?" he asks, playfully grabbing Lando's jaw. "Am I not pretty enough for you?"


	41. GAS/LEC/VER - studying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has a minor meltdown over his uni exams. Pierre and Charles comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @altissimozucca <33

“Fuck!” Max groaned, slamming his textbook shut and launching it across the room where it crashed into the wall and landed behind the other sofa in the living room. He sighed heavily and tucked his knees to his chest, dragging his fingers through his hair and burying his face against his knees.

“What the hell is this?” Charles asked, appearing from the kitchen with Pierre closely in tow. The two of them were in the middle of making dinner whilst Max finished up his studying; he had an exam tomorrow and was doing some last minute cramming.

“Nothing,” Max mumbled. He sighed again as Charles and Pierre surrounded him on the sofa and he curled into Pierre’s arms while Charles rubbed his back. “Just the end of my life, that’s all. I’m going to fail this stupid french exam tomorrow and I’ll fail my degree and I’ll never be successful and my Dad will think-”

“Max, please,  _ shut up _ ,” Pierre said softly, kissing the top of Max’s head. “You’re being too dramatic.”

“I can’t help it,” Max protested. “I never should have chosen this stupid degree. I should have done the same as Charles; at least that’s mostly  _ pictures  _ and not reading stupid novels about Paris in the 1800s.”

“My degree is not  _ mostly pictures _ ,” Charles said, pulling away from Max. “And if you’re going to insult Pierre’s culture like that, I won’t help you with your pronunciation anymore, you can fucking do it on your own.”

“No, Charles, I didn’t mean it like that,” Max sighed. He pulled away from Pierre and clambered off the sofa, crossing the room and retrieving his text book. He sat down on the sofa opposite Charles and Pierre and straightened the bent pages in his book. Sitting back on the sofa, he opened the cover and re-read the french love notes and messages of encouragement from Charles and Pierre and then he closed the book quickly, tears stinging his eyes. “I meant you’re both so talented and I’m scared I’m going to completely fuck this up. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Max, hey,” Pierre cooed. He moved to sit next to Max and wrapped an arm around his shoulder protectively. “I know what you meant. You’re right that Charles doesn’t have to write loads of essays for his art degree, but I know you know how hard he still works. How many times have we helped him clean charcoal and paint and spirits out of his hair for him?”

“Loads of times,” Max mumbled, curling against Pierre again and hiding his face against Pierre’s chest.

“And I know you don’t enjoy the historical literature; that’s my thing because I’m a hopeless romantic. But once your exams are over, you won’t have to read historical literature ever again if you don’t want to. You can stick to your news and economics and international relations and all that other stuff that Charles and I will never understand. You’re  _ so  _ smart, Max, you will get through these exams and you will pass your degree.” Pierre closed his eyes and nuzzled Max’s hair. “You’ve got this.”

“Yeah, you’ve totally got this,” Charles said in agreement, crossing the room and kneeling down in front of Max. “Besides, you’re our only hope for a rich future. All big artists are worth more when they’re dead, and Pierre’s going to use his masters in Art History to spend  _ other  _ people’s money, so you’re our only hope to ever get out of this tiny apartment. You’ve got to work hard and make lots of money so you can buy us somewhere nicer.”

“Somewhere with a better kitchen?” Max sniffled, reaching one hand out and lacing his fingers together with Charles’s. 

“A better kitchen,” Charles said, kissing Max’s knuckles. “And a bigger bedroom with room for all my clothes.”

Max laughed through his tears and squeezed Charles’s hand. “And lots of wall space for your art, and a big bookshelf for all the history books Pierre would want.”

Charles moved to sit up on the sofa next to Max and he hugged him from behind, reaching past him and gripping Pierre’s leg. “That sounds amazing, my love,” he said gently. “That’s the future I want for us. Just the three of us and our own little place that we’ve made perfect.”

“Okay,” Max agreed. “I’ll work my best on it. First the exam tomorrow, then finish my coursework, then find a good graduate program with some rich global corporation, then get us a little place for all your beautiful art and Pierre’s fancy books.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very much a millenial so I'm not sure how you youngsters these days use the word 'yeet' but perhaps it's appropriate for what Max did to his book.


	42. Leclerc/Verstappen - uncles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Arthur have a child. Charles gets emotional.

Charles closed his eyes as the sunlight hit his face. He fidgeted on the bench outside the hospital and fiddled with the ring on his middle finger, rolling it around his knuckle. He and Max had decided not to wear rings on the traditional finger - it would be too easy for people to ask probing questions, but nobody seemed to bat an eyelid if they wore rings on their middle fingers. They’d been engaged for nearly two years - Max had proposed after winning the championship and Charles was quick to say yes.

“He’s a gorgeous little thing, isn’t he?” Max said, sitting down on the bench next to Charles, startling him. “The baby, I mean,” he continued when Charles squinted at him. “Louis is a nice name. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Arthur smile so much. Victoria’s resting; she could barely keep her eyes open. I think she’ll sleep as much as Louis will. I was thinking that we should probably go home soon; there are a lot of people here and I think Victoria’s feeling a bit overwhelmed. She already joked that she’s never been seen by so many people without her makeup on.”

“Shut up,” Charles murmured, turning to face Max. “Shut up, shut up, just shut  _ up _ .”

“What’s wrong?” Max asked tentatively, frowning at Charles. “You seemed so happy when you were inside.”

Charles shrugged and folded his hands together in his lap, twiddling with his ring again. “I don’t know,” he replied, shifting his gaze away from Max and out to the view from the hospital over his city. “Today is just, I don’t know, it’s a  _ lot _ .”

Max reached out and put his hand on top of Charles’s, tracing his fingers over Charles’s knuckles. “Talk to me, please? What are you thinking?”

Charles ground his teeth as he searched for the words to answer Max. “I wish my Dad was here,” he said, curling toward Max but not meeting his gaze. “Seeing Victoria and Jos, and how happy and proud he is, I wish Arthur could have that too. Louis would be his first grandchild, and I know he’s been gone nearly ten years and I shouldn’t be so emotional about it, but-”

“-it’s okay,” Max interrupted, wrapping his other arm around Charles’s shoulder. “I don’t think there’s a right way or a wrong way for you to feel right now. You’re allowed to be emotional.”

“I’m just being stupid,” Charles mumbled. “Honestly, I feel terrible admitting it, but I think I’m jealous of them.”

“How so?”

“Because it was so  _ easy _ for them,” Charles snapped, flinching at his outburst. “Louis wasn’t even planned, they weren’t even trying to have a baby, he was a total surprise to them. I’m not mad at them for it; they’re both going to be great parents and I’m truly happy for them, but I’m jealous too because I can’t do that for you. I want so much to have a family of my own with you, but it will  _ never  _ be as simple as it was for Vic and Arthur. The cost, the time, the paperwork, having to justify to total strangers that we deserve help and even then we can’t have a child that’s biologically both of ours. We’ll never have a child that’s half Leclerc and half Verstappen, and those two have done that by  _ accident _ . They didn’t have to explain their desire to be parents to anybody and they didn’t have to pay thousands of euros and trust strangers with their family and it breaks my heart that I can’t make it easy for you to be a Father because I know you would be so good at it and-”

“-shut up,” Max said, pulling Charles into his arms as he burst into tears. Max cried hard, burying his face against Charles’s jumper until he regained his composure. “I love you more than anything,” he said, pulling away only far enough to be able to breathe properly. “Has anything about our relationship ever been easy?”

“Well, no, but-”

“-so starting a family will just be another challenge for us,” Max said, kissing Charles’s forehead. “But we’ll get through it together just like we’ve gotten through everything else together. Honestly, I don’t care if our children have my DNA or not. They’ll probably be better looking if they have your DNA anyway, or we could adopt. I don’t care; it’s not important to me. What’s important to me is that I have you.”

“But wouldn’t it be easier if I were a woman-”

“No way,” Max replied, shaking his head. “You’re perfect just the way you are and I wouldn’t change anything about you. You’re hell enough as it is, can you imagine what you’d be like if you  _ were  _ pregnant?”

Charles smirked through his tears, scoffing at the expression on Max’s face. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Max said, kissing Charles again. “Our time to start a family will come, I promise you. For today, I just need you to be Uncle Charles. Can you do that? If you’re upset about your Dad, I bet Arthur is too. Can you just be his big brother and not overthink everything? You and me, we’re going to be great uncles. Louis is going to be so loved and you’re going to be a big part of his life.”

Charles nodded and rubbed his eyes. “I like the sound of Uncle Charles,” he admitted, managing a smile as he stood up. “And Uncle Max. We could teach him how to drive.”

“Oh, I think Victoria and Arthur will have that covered,” Max laughed, holding Charles’s hand as they headed back into the hospital building. “But maybe we could teach him how to cook?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk where this soppy thing came from. Back to the violence!


	43. Gasly/Verstappen - coronavirus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre's stuck in Dubai during coronavirus lockdown. Max is alone in his apartment in Monaco. Pierre's worried about Charles, who is also alone. Max comes to the rescue.

“You sound sleepy,” Pierre said, fidgeting on the bed as he mashed at the buttons on his gaming controller. He was passing the evening in his hotel in Dubai by playing games online with Charles. Pyry was on the bed next to him, his headphones on and his face buried in a book full of long words Pierre didn’t understand.

“I’m fine.”

“What did you have for dinner?” Pierre asked, taking his gaming character to hide behind a pile of boxes while he assessed the situation. 

“Is it dinner time already?”

“Fucking hell, Charles,” Pierre said, jumping out from behind the boxes and fighting an enemy character. “It’s nearly eleven o’clock there. You should have eaten hours ago. When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know, okay? I’ve been busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“I don’t know! Gaming with you. Working out, whatever. Why do you care, anyway?”

“Because you’re my best friend!” Pierre hissed, keeping his voice quiet enough so as not to disturb Pyry. “And because you’ve been in your apartment by yourself for three weeks now. Tell me what food you have in your fridge.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Pierre asked, angrily pausing the game and slamming his controller down into the mattress. “All I see on instagram is you exercising. You can’t remember the last time you ate. You’re all on your own. I  _ know  _ you’re not sleeping properly because you’re always online on whatsapp. How much weight have you lost since you’ve been at home?”

“Pierre-”

“How much?” Pierre snapped. “Tell me, Charles.”

“Four kilos.”

Pierre sighed and dragged his hands through his hair, shrugging Pyry off when he tried to console him. Pierre climbed off the bed and moved to stand on the balcony, staring out at the city lights below. “I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be. I’m fine. I do eat. I’m not starving myself.  _ Please _ , Pierre, don’t worry about me. I’m doing all the right things. I’m staying indoors, I’m washing my hands, I’m taking my vitamins, I’m trying to be good.”

“I know you’re trying your best,” Pierre said sympathetically, hugging himself because he couldn’t hug Charles. “But with your history, I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be on your own right now.”

“What do you mean  _ with my history _ ?”

“You know what I mean,” Pierre replied, frowning. “I don’t want you to fall again.”

“Fuck you, Pierre. I miss one meal and you accuse me of being anorexic again? You don’t want me to fall because  _ you’re  _ not here to catch me.  _ You _ chose to stay in Dubai instead of coming back to Europe, not me. Don’t take it out on me just because you’re feeling guilty.”

“Charles-” Pierre didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before his headset fell silent. Pierre stepped back into his hotel room and glanced up at the TV on the wall.  _ Charles Leclerc has disconnected. _

\---

When Charles didn’t answer his door, Max knocked again, more loudly this time. “Charles, I know you’re in there,” he called out. “We’re all under lockdown, so I know you’re at home. Please, open the door?”

“What do you want, Max?” Charles asked, ripping the door open and taking a big step backwards, his body language making it clear he was practicing  _ social distancing _ , not inviting Max inside.

“I wanted to check on you,” Max replied, stepping into the apartment and causing Charles to back up until he was against the wall.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Charles said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know Pierre sent you. You should go, though. It’s not safe for you to be here. I think I have the coronavirus.”

“Are you coughing a lot?” Max asked, frowning.

“Well, no, but-” Charles stopped talking when Max pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. Charles screwed his eyes shut and held his breath, trying desperately not to breathe on Max.

“You don’t have a temperature,” Max said, pulling away. “I think you’re fine.”

“Do you know how many people have it but don’t show any symptoms?” Charles protested, letting out his breath and gasping in more air. “You could have just infected yourself.”

“Do you want to come and stay with me?” Max offered, taking a step backwards and giving Charles his personal space back. “I mean, if your apartment is infested with the virus, you might feel safer at mine?”

Charles chewed on his lip as he considered Max’s offer. “You’re alone in your apartment?”

“Yes, when Pierre’s not staying with me. He can’t go back to his place in Italy because of the lockdown there and he didn’t want to go back to his parents in Paris. When he chose to stay in Dubai, I don’t think anyone realised how fucked up it was all going to get in Europe. We all thought it was just China and Italy.”

“But now it’s  _ everywhere _ ,” Charles said, scratching at his chest through his t-shirt. “Why did Pierre send you here?”

“He didn’t send me,” Max explained. “He told me he was worried about you, and I  _ offered  _ to come and check on you. I’m glad I came. It’s good to see another person; I’ve been so fucking lonely these past few weeks.”

“Why’s he worried about me?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Charles insisted. “He must have said  _ something _ .”

“He used the words Anorexia Athletica, but he didn’t explain what it meant and I didn’t ask,” Max replied. “I don’t think it’s really any of my business, is it? All I know is that he can’t come and visit you, but I can. I can go, though, if you want me to?”

“I haven’t relapsed,” Charles replied quickly, burying his hands in his pocket. “I promise you I haven’t. It’s just hard, sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” Max said sympathetically. “It’s hard being on your own when all there is to do is play computer games and exercise.”

“I didn’t want to go to the supermarket,” Charles added, sounding panicked. “I didn’t want to infect random strangers, you know? I might not have any symptoms but I could infect someone and they could  _ die _ . I don’t want to be responsible for someone’s death.”

“Come and stay with me then,” Max said, repeating his offer. “I did a big shop at the supermarket; I have enough food to keep us going for a while. I’m not a great cook but between the two of them I’m sure we can do better than I can on my own. And maybe we can look out for each other? You can make sure I don’t spend too long on the computer and I can make sure you don’t spend too long on the bike. How does that sound?”

Charles nodded and threw his arms around Max, nestling his face against Max’s shoulder and squeezing him close. It was his first cuddle with anyone since boarding the plane in Australia nearly a month ago. He screwed his eyes shut and tried not to cry as Max hugged him back, squeezing his ribs.

“I can’t bring any of my stuff though,” Charles explained, glancing back into his flat. “I’ve touched pretty much everything here these past few days. I don’t want to contaminate your apartment.”

“I think I should have everything you’ll need,” Max replied. “You can wear Pierre’s stuff; I’m sure he won’t mind. I have a spare phone charger too; and forgive me if this is rude, but do you need to bring any medication?”

“Fuck,” Charles muttered, leaving Max in the hallway and disappearing into the kitchen. He came back a few seconds later carrying a small bottle which he shoved into the pocket on his jeans. “Okay, I’m all good. Let’s go.”

\---

“Can I see him?”

“I told you, he’s sleeping,” Max said, fidgeting on the sofa and adjusting his grip on his phone. “I know you’re still worried about him, but babe,  _ please _ , you’ve got to trust him.”

“You’re right,” Pierre sighed. “I’m sorry. I trust him. I trust you.”

“I know it’s hard,” Max said sympathetically. “The world is a crazy place right now. I know you’re just trying your best. Nobody feels in control of anything right now; I know I certainly don’t. I’m glad Charles is here, though, he’s good company. I’ve been helping him with iRacing and he’s taught me how to play Fortnite. We’ve been working out together and we’ve even managed to cook edible meals! You should be proud of us!”

“I  _ am  _ proud,” Pierre replied, smiling at his phone. “But I miss you both like crazy. I just want to talk to him and tell him I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Charles asked, sitting down next to Max on the sofa. He stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes, pulling the sleeves of Pierre’s hoodie down over his fists.

“Sorry for doubting you,” Pierre said. “Sorry for thinking you’re sick. Sorry for projecting my own worries onto you.”

“I accept your apology,” Charles said calmly, resting his head on Max’s shoulder. “For sure, my anxiety is crazy right now, but I’m not sick like I used to be. I’m trying to be healthy and Max is helping. I wish you could come back soon.”

“I wish I could too,” Pierre replied. “But you guys are managing to eat okay?”

“It’s  _ almost  _ edible,” Charles said, grinning. “But every day we are learning. Max got some herbs and spices from the supermarket so already we are making progress.”

“Speaking of which, we should probably eat,” Max said, wrapping his arm around Charles’s shoulder. “Pierre, we’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll set you up on the iPad and you and Pyry can join us while we have breakfast. Would you like that?”

“I’d love it.”

“Okay. We’ll see you tomorrow. Love you, Pierre.” Max smiled at his phone and ended the call, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and cuddling Charles closer. “What do you want for dinner?”

“That salmon you bought,” Charles replied, pressing himself harder against Max before clambering off the sofa. “I found a recipe on youtube where you just rub it in oil, salt, and pepper, and then just put it straight in the oven. I don’t think we can fuck that up, right?”

“We can only try,” Max laughed, following Charles into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt badly written and I like the idea more than my execution of it, but eh, fuck it, I hope it wasn't too painful to read. <33


	44. Leclerc/Verstappen - robbery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning - aftermath of a violent assault
> 
> For @altissimozucca who asked for angst. Hopefully I delivered!

Pierre was startled awake at 2am by his phone ringing. He snatched it off the bedside table, settling when the vibrating of the phone against the wood no longer made his whole room shake, and swiped across the screen, holding his phone to his ear. “Hey, Charles.”

“Hello, Pierre?” The voice that responded was not Charles, but his young son Leo. Max and Charles had adopted two siblings shortly after they got married and the four of them lived in a large apartment in the building next to where Pierre lived with Daniil.

“Hi Leo,” Pierre said, sitting up in bed and elbowing Daniil awake. He was panicking, but tried to sound calm so as not to unsettle Leo. “What’s up, little man?”

“Papa won’t wake up.”

Pierre’s eyes widened and he elbowed Daniil again, putting the phone on loudspeaker so he could hear the conversation as well. “Papa won’t wake up?” he clarified, nervously biting his lip. “Where’s your Daddy?”

“Daddy’s lying on the floor. Some men hurt him.”

“Are the men still there?” Pierre asked, already climbing out of bed and pulling on some clothes. Daniil did the same, helping Pierre with a jacket. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s with Papa. The men left. Daddy still won’t wake up.”

“We’re coming, Leo,” Pierre said, stuffing his feet into his shoes and hurrying out of the apartment behind Daniil. “Don’t put the phone down, okay? We’ll be there in two minutes.”

“I’m scared, Pierre.”

“It’s okay,” Pierre said, breathless as he chased after Daniil up the stairs to Max and Charles’s apartment. “We’re nearly there, I promise.” In the background, Pierre could hear Leo’s little sister crying.

Pierre ended the call as Daniil slid their key into the front door of the apartment and Pierre found himself holding his breath as he stepped inside, fearful for what they’d find inside the apartment.

Max was lying on his back on the floor in the middle of the open plan living area, a pool of blood beneath him and several open wounds in his torso. Leo was knelt down next to him, Max’s blood soaked into his dinosaur pyjamas as he clutched Charles’s phone in both his hands. Charles had changed Pierre’s contact name to ‘Uncle Pierre’ because it was the only way Siri would recognise his name when Leo constantly asked to call him (Charles had often joked that maybe Pierre and Daniil had adopted the children because Leo clearly seemed to prefer Pierre; Pierre and Daniil insisted they were content just to be Uncles.)

“Come here, Leo,” Daniil said, scooping Leo up off the floor and carrying him over to the sofa. Daniil carefully set Leo down on the cushion and pulled a blanket over him to hide him from seeing the blood. “Are you hurting?” When Leo shook his head, Daniil kissed his forehead. “Sit still for me, Leo, I’m going to help your Daddy.”

Pierre found Charles slumped in the corner of the room by the balcony, clutching baby Manon in his arms. He had defensive slashes across his forearms as well as larger wounds in his stomach and shoulder. Charles stirred when Pierre prised Manon out of his grip. “Please, don’t hurt my-”

“It’s okay, Charles, it’s me, Pierre,” Pierre replied, carefully placing Charles’s arms down in his lap. “Stay still, we’re getting you help.” Pierre set Manon down on her back on the sofa next to Leo. “Can you keep an eye on your little sister for me, little man?”

“Yes.” Leo nodded and reached out one hand to hold Manon’s. She wrapped her fingers around his hand and fidgeted.

“Dany, tell me Max is fucking alive,” Pierre said, switching to Italian because the children didn’t understand it. Pierre swiped at his phone to call the emergency services and felt relief wash over him when Daniil nodded.

Pierre made his way over to Charles and knelt down next to him as he spoke to the emergency services, explaining that Max and Charles had been stabbed multiple times and were barely conscious. He ended the phone call and accepted the towels that Daniil threw at him. Pierre balled up one of the towels and pressed it hard against Charles’s stomach to try and slow the bleeding. Charles cried out at the pain and grabbed weakly at Pierre’s arms, desperate to pull him away and ease the pain.

“You’re hurting Papa!” Leo sobbed, clambering off the sofa and throwing himself at Pierre. “Stop it, Uncle Pierre!” he cried, thumping his fists against Pierre’s back. “Papa!”

“Charles, open your eyes and look at me,” Pierre hissed, pulling his hands free from Charles’s grip and then guiding Charles’s hands to the towel. “Hold this and press  _ hard _ . We’ve got to try and stop the bleeding.”

“I can’t-”

“You  _ must _ ,” Pierre said, pressing his hands on top of Charles’s for a few moments before turning his attention to Leo who was still desperately trying to pull him away from Charles.

“Uncle Pierre!”

“It’s okay,” Pierre lied, pulling Leo down onto his lap. “Do you want to help?”

“Yes.”

“Come here then,” Pierre said, guiding Leo’s arms around his neck. “Cuddle me  _ really tight _ , okay? Use all your strength. Keep your head against my shoulder.”

“Like this?” Leo checked, burying his face into Pierre’s hoodie and wrapping his legs around Pierre’s back.

“That’s perfect,” Pierre said, leaning forward and pressing his hands down on top of the towel again. This time Charles didn’t cry out in pain, he stifled a groan as he opened his eyes and looked up at Pierre.

\---

Max opened his eyes and winced at the bright hospital lights. He tried to sit up but as soon as he tensed his stomach, pain shot through him and he sank back into the mattress. Glancing around the room, he saw Pierre and Daniil both sat on plastic chairs to the side of his bed. Daniil was cradling Manon in his arms and Leo was curled up asleep in Pierre’s lap, his messy blonde hair sticking out over the sleeve of Pierre’s hoodie.

Max opened his mouth to speak but his throat was raw and when he cleared his throat, Pierre startled awake. Max tried his best to smile at him but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Max, everyone is okay,” Pierre said, lightly rubbing Leo’s back in an effort to help him stay settled and asleep. “We nearly lost both of you; Charles had some complications in his surgery, but you’re both okay now.”

“And the children, are they-”

“-no physical injuries at all,” Pierre replied, smiling when he saw Max visibly start to relax. “Arthur and his mum are with Charles; Lorenzo is at the flat with the police helping to put together a list of everything that was stolen.”

“I barely remember it,” Max said hoarsely, his gaze shifting down to Leo. “I just remember trying to protect them. Charles had the children; Leo was clinging to his leg, but they overpowered me. I don’t know how many times I was stabbed, and I just- are you  _ sure  _ everyone is okay?”

“I’m sure,” Pierre replied. “You have to thank little Leo for saving your life, I think. He called us on Charles’s phone and raised the alarm. We came straight over and found you guys and called the ambulance. You should be very proud of Leo.”

“He called you?”

Pierre nodded. “He said ‘Daddy won’t wake up’ and I knew something was wrong. You’ve raised such a smart little boy. I really feel like I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you now if he hadn't phoned us.”

“And Manon’s definitely okay too?”

Pierre nodded again. “Charles has wounds all over his arms from trying to protect her but she’s fine. The doctors checked them both really thoroughly. The poor things were both covered in blood but none of it was their own. I promise we haven’t let them out of our sight since we got to your apartment. Daniil’s been looking after Manon and I’ve been clinging to Leo almost as tight as he’s been clinging to me.”

Max smiled at Pierre, his eyes glazing over. “And you’re  _ sure  _ everyone’s okay?”

\---

Charles scooped Manon up into his arms and nuzzled the top of her head. It was five o’clock in the morning and the sun was just starting to creep into their apartment. Charles and Max had both been out of the hospital for a few weeks and were readjusting to life. They were both suffering lasting effects from the assault, with Max struggling to sleep without having nightmares and Charles struggling to get his strength back.

Charles carried Manon out of her room and out to the kitchen, smiling widely when he saw that Daniil had just finished preparing a fresh bottle of milk. “I swear, Dany,” he grinned, “if I wasn’t already married to Max and if you weren’t in love with Pierre, I could kiss you right now.”

“I understand,” Daniil replied playfully, following Charles over to the sofa with the bottle. Charles sat down and moved to support Manon with just one arm and Daniil handed him the bottle, smiling fondly as Charles pressed it to Manon’s lips and she peered up at him as she drank.

“Who are we kissing?” Max asked, appearing behind Charles and squeezing his shoulder. 

“Dany.”

“I see,” Max smiled, moving to sit down next to Charles. “Do I want to know  _ why _ ?”

“No, just go with it,” Charles laughed, kissing Max’s cheek. “I was just thinking about how lucky we are to have such good friends.”

“I’ll leave you two alone, I’ll see you at breakfast,” Danny said, offering Charles and Max a warm smile before returning to the guest bedroom where Pierre was still fast asleep, Leo curled up in a ball against his side.


	45. Leclerc/Norris - lockdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando and Arthur are separated by the great Global Pandemic of 2020. Lando's not handling it well. :(

“I’m sorry your game crashed,” Arthur said, offering Lando a sad smile as he cradled his phone in his hands. Arthur was curled up in bed, already an hour ahead of Lando; he was wearing one of Lando’s t-shirts and he missed his boyfriend desperately. “Maybe tonight just wasn’t meant to be?”

Lando was sitting at his computer desk in the UK, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands and hugged himself, wishing Arthur could be there with him. “Maybe nothing’s meant to be.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked tentatively, turning up the volume on his headphones because Lando was talking so quietly. “Take off your hat, Lando, let me see your beautiful face.”

Lando removed his headphones and then pulled off his hat, dropping it on the floor before running his fingers over his shaven head. He put his headphones back on and sighed. “I don’t have a beautiful face,” he protested, scratching at his cheek. “Maybe you need glasses like your  _ brother _ .”

Arthur heard the tone in Lando’s voice and he grinned. “What annoys you the most?” he asked curiously. “His lack of computer skills, or his constant need for attention?”

Lando shrugged, his bottom lip trembling. He blinked rapidly a few times, trying to will away the tears stinging his eyes but soon he was overwhelmed and he ripped his headphones off, dropping his head to the desk and hiding his face against his arms.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe, mon amour?” Arthur asked, knowing Lando couldn’t hear him. Arthur wiped his own eyes as he saw Lando’s shoulders shaking on the screen of his phone. The government advice was to only travel when it was  _ essential  _ and Arthur wondered if he could convince them it was essential that he fly to the UK to be with Lando.

It took Lando a few minutes to regain his composure and he sat up in his gaming chair, tucking his knees to his chest. He pulled his headphones back on and wrapped his arms around his chins, settling his chin on his knees as he peered at his computer screen. 

“What’s wrong, my love?” 

“Nothing,” Lando murmured, closing his eyes, “and at the same time,  _ everything _ .”

“This is about more than just Charles being annoying, right?”

Lando nodded. “He’s fine most of the time; I like him a lot, and it sounds horrible but I hate streaming with him. He’s always flirting with Alex and George, or smiling at his girlfriend and he sounds so much like  _ you  _ and I, just, I don’t know, I hate it. I’m not usually jealous, but right now I’m so fucking lonely and I know he doesn’t realise he’s doing it but it feels like he’s rubbing my face in it. He has everything and right now I feel like I have nothing. There’s no way I could get away with flirting with guys on my stream, and I can’t have you here to bring me snacks and I can’t beat him at racing because my stupid fucking computer won’t even load the game properly. And I know I probably sound so ungrateful and I know there are loads of people out there who have it worse than me, but Arthur I’m just so fucking lonely right now. This house feels so big with just me in it and I stream every day just to get some connection with other humans but it feels like I’m on display like I’m a fucking zoo animal.”

“I’m so sorry, Lando,” Arthur replied, curling up into a smaller ball under his blankets. “I promise, as soon as the travel ban is lifted, I’ll be on the first flight to London to be with you. I’ll make the house feel less empty. Do you want me to talk to Charles and ask him to calm down a bit?”

“No, it’s fine,” Lando said, rubbing his eyes again and peering at Arthur. “He’s having fun.”

“Yeah, but if he’s making you feel like shit, then someone should tell him,” Arthur pointed out. “I know he wouldn’t want you to feel bad because of him.”

“Maybe.” Lando fidgeted in his chair and bent his mic away from his face, hiding his face against his sleeve and coughing loudly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, adjusting his mic back into place.

“Are you getting sick?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Lando sighed. “I don’t know if it’s a cold or the stupid covid-19 but I’ve been switching between hot and cold all day and my head hurts and all my limbs are feeling really heavy. I probably just need to sleep or something.”

“Hopefully,” Arthur replied, his eyes widening. “Do you have a fever?”

“How do I tell? I don’t have a thermometer.”

“Put your hand on your chest, is your skin hot there?”

Lando straightened himself out and put his feet on the floor, sliding his hand up under his hoodie and pressing it against his chest. “No, it doesn’t feel  _ too  _ hot. I run like a radiator on a normal day, but it feels normal.”

“That’s good,” Arthur replied. “Have you been coughing a lot?”

“Not really.”

“That’s good too,” Arthur said, smiling. “Hopefully it’s not coronavirus. Why don’t you have a day off tomorrow? Take it easy; no streaming, no training. I wish I was there to make you soup and toast.”

“I wish you were here too,” Lando replied, tucking his knees back to his chest and clearing his throat. “I’ve still got an Easter Egg for you. A big Cadbury’s Dairy Milk one; it came with a big bar of chocolate too.”

“Sounds delicious,” Arthur replied, remembering fondly the time Lando had taken him to a Cadbury’s store and they’d spent the afternoon watching movies and eating a bag of Cadbury’s mis-shapes. “Keep it safe until I can come over and we’ll watch movies again.”

“I can’t promise I won’t eat it before then,” Lando said, a small smile playing on his lips. Even when he was at his lowest, Arthur had a way of cheering him up. “But I’ll  _ try _ .”

“Try, please!” Arthur laughed, stifling a yawn. “Why don’t we end this call and you call me back on your phone? That way we can fall asleep together.”

“I can do that,” Lando said, leaning in closer to his computer. “Thank you for cheering me up, Arthur. Je t’aime.”

“I love you too,” Arthur replied. “Call me back.” He ended the call and changed his bedside lamp to its dimmest setting. Arthur plugged the charging cable into his phone and balanced it on its stand, closing his eyes for a few minutes and trying not to fall asleep before Lando called him back.

The light from Arthur’s screen startled him and he swiped at the glass, smiling when he saw Lando’s face, his position mirroring Arthur’s own. Arthur waved at him and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, wanting to be as close to Lando as possible.

“I’m going to leave the volume on low, okay?” Lando said, settling his head into the pillow. “I don’t want to be woken up by you snoring.”

“ _ Me  _ snoring?!” Arthur asked incredulously. “It’s  _ you  _ who snores. I should put my phone on silent!”

“Talk to me in French,” Lando said, closing his eyes. “I don’t mind what you talk about. Tell me what we’ll do when we can see each other again. I just want to hear something  _ nice _ .”

Arthur smiled and spoke softly to Lando as he drifted off to sleep, talking about his plans for watching movies and eating Easter Eggs and walking in the English countryside (Monaco didn’t exactly have many meadows) and cooking pasta for dinner (or ‘tea’ as Arthur liked to hear Lando call it) and early nights with cuddling and late nights with movie marathons.


	46. Leclerc/Verstappen - acid attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this is really angsty/dark. The second half is much gentler.

Charles felt his chest tighten as he hurried down the hospital corridor to the private room where Arthur was. The doctors hadn’t told him much about Arthur’s condition, only that he’d suffered acid burns in an apparent suicide attempt. Max was on his way back from the airport but Charles couldn’t wait for him; he had to be at Arthur’s side as soon as possible. Ever since their parents had died in a boating accident when Charles had just turned 18, he’d been responsible for Arthur. The two of them lived together in their childhood home and Charles had promised that he would always be there to look out for Arthur.

Charles found room #4 and headed inside, hesitating when he saw a stranger sat next to Arthur’s bed. Arthur was sitting up slightly in bed, slumped against the pillows and he had a breathing tube in his throat. There were various other tubes and wires disappearing under the blankets but Charles didn’t understand what any of them meant. Arthur was conscious but his eyes were unfocused and he barely acknowledged Charles’s presence.

“You must be Charles,” the man said, tracing his fingers lovingly over Arthur’s arm. “The family resemblance is strong.”

Charles frowned and took a small step towards Arthur, peering at the man on the other side of the bed. “Of course I’m Charles,” he said flatly; his face was on a billboard advertising the Grand Prix that happened the previous weekend. He was the most famous racing driver in Monaco and the French and Italians worshipped him too. There was no way someone could know who Arthur was and not know who Charles was. “Who are you?”

“I’m Louis; I’m Arthur’s boyfriend.” He appeared a lot older than Arthur; maybe in his late thirties but he was well kept with a neat beard and tidy hair. He looked like he went to the gym a lot and had a handsome face that Charles could imagine Arthur liking. The only problem Charles had was that Arthur had never talked about him once.

Charles shifted his weight uncomfortably and looked up at Arthur. His piercing blue eyes looked back at Charles and Charles couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. He was sedated with painkillers and other medication and had a smell that made Charles feel nauseous. Arthur had acid burns all over his neck and down his chest, disappearing under the blankets and his jaw was red raw, his lips already blistered.

Charles stepped up to the top of the bed and leant over Arthur, delicately kissing his forehead, careful not to disturb any of the medical equipment or touch his burned skin. “It’s okay, Arturo,” he whispered, “I’m here now.”

“I’m just so shocked that he would do something like this,” Louis said, gripping Arthur’s hand a little tighter. “I always thought he was happy, you know? He’s always laughing and playing around; I never thought he would do something like this.”

“How long have you been together?” Charles asked defensively.

“Just over a year; it was our anniversary last week.”

“A year?!” Charles retorted. “No, I cannot believe that. I cannot believe that Arthur would have a boyfriend for a whole year and not tell me. This doesn’t feel right. How did you meet?”

“Like every other couple these days,” Louis explained. “On the internet. I can show you pictures of us, if you’d like?”

“Yes please,” Charles replied, moving around to the other side of the bed to stand next to Louis. “I don’t want to be rude, but this is just a big shock for me, that’s all.”

“It’s fine, really,” Louis said, offering Charles a warm smile as he handed over his phone.

Charles accepted the phone and peered at the screen which showed a selfie Arthur had taken. He had Louis’s arms wrapped around him from behind and they were on one of Monaco’s beaches. Arthur was smiling widely and Charles couldn’t see any signs that the image had been photoshopped.

As Charles swiped through the image gallery, he saw more pictures of Louis and Arthur together as well as a few of Arthur curled up asleep on a sofa, presumably in Louis’s apartment. 

Louis held Arthur’s hand tight and traced his fingers in a pattern over Arthur’s forearm. When Arthur tried to move, Louis shook his head and pressed Arthur’s shoulder back into the mattress, digging his fingers subtly but painfully into Arthur’s collarbone.

Charles missed the movement, too engrossed in Louis’s phone and when he swiped to one of the most recent photos, his breath caught in his throat and he tightened his grip. The photo showed Arthur lying on the floor in his underwear, looking up at the camera with a terrified expression on his face. Charles swiped again and saw a video. He hit play and watched in horror as the person holding the camera threw acid over Arthur. Arthur’s screams were loud out of the tinny speakers on the phone and Charles looked up at Louis. “What the-”

“Give me that,” Louis snarled, letting go of Arthur’s hand and lunging at Charles. 

“No.” Charles quickly slipped the phone into his back pocket, the video still playing and he moved away from Louis. Louis followed after him and shoved Charles up against a storage cupboard, clawing desperately at his hips to try and reach the phone.

Charles shoved Louis away hard and as Louis stumbled backwards, Charles grabbed him and pushed him out into the corridor. He shouted for someone to call Security and then rushed back into Arthur’s room, slamming the door shut and twisting the lock closed.

As Louis banged on the door, Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone, silencing the video and locking the phone. After returning it to his pocket, he made his way over to Arthur, his skin crawling with the sound of Arthur’s screams still echoing in his ears. Arthur fidgeted in the bed and Charles reached out, running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said softly, reaching down with his other hand and gently squeezing Arthur’s arm. “Look at me, Arturo, I’m right here. Louis is gone; the door is locked and I’m not going to let him come near you, I promise.”

Arthur stilled and screwed his eyes shut, curling towards Charles as much as he could given all the medical equipment attached to his body.

“I’m so sorry, Arturo,” Charles said, kissing Arthur’s hair. “I’m so sorry he did this to you. I’m sorry you’re hurting; I’m here for you. I’m not leaving your side, I promise. Look at me.”

Arthur opened his eyes and peered up at Charles. He lifted his hand, reaching for Charles.

“I’m here,” Charles said, gripping Arthur’s hand and kissing his fingers. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

The shouting outside in the corridor subsided and then there was a knock at the door. Charles looked across and saw a nurse staring into the room. Charles left Arthur’s side for just long enough to unlock the door and then he went straight back to holding Arthur’s hand.

“He’s gone,” the nurse said confidently, “but what’s going on? He was shouting something about you stealing his phone? Do you need me to call the police?”

“Yes please,” Charles said, not lifting his gaze from Arthur. “Arthur didn’t do this to himself; it was done to him by Louis. He claims he’s Arthur’s boyfriend but I don’t know if that’s true. He filmed the whole thing on his phone. I’m not giving his phone back to him; I’ll only give it to the police.”

\---

“Charles, it’s just a date, please,  _ relax _ ,” Max said, standing behind Charles and massaging his shoulders over the back of the sofa. “You’ve got to learn to trust him at some point.”

“I do trust him,” Charles replied, closing his eyes and dropping his chin to his chest, giving Max easier access to his shoulders. “It’s every other person on this planet I don’t trust.”

Max sighed and kissed the top of Charles’s head before moving to sit next to him on the sofa. He took Charles’s hands in his and kissed his fingers. “It’s been two years,” he said calmly. “Louis is in prison and he’s not coming out any time soon. Arthur has been doing so well recently; he’s driving again and look how that is building his confidence. His therapy has gone well; he understands what makes a healthy relationship now and he’s two years older and two years smarter than he was when he was with Louis. You need to take off the bubble wrap one day.”

“I know,” Charles said, curling against Max and settling his head against Max’s chest. “I just worry, that’s all. I want him to be happy; I don’t want him to get hurt. What if they don’t like his scars?”

“If they have a problem with his scars, they’re not the right man for him,” Max pointed out. “Please stop projecting your worries onto him. You can barely see his scars outside of his shirt anyway, and this is just a first date, I don’t think either of them will be getting naked.”

“I can hear you talking about me, you know,” Arthur said, coming out to the living room from his bedroom. He had on a pair of skinny black jeans and a smart button-up shirt. “How do I look?”

“You look great,” Max said, smiling brightly at Arthur. “Is that a new shirt? I like the pattern.”

“Thank you,” Arthur replied politely, perching on the edge of the armchair and gazing at Charles. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course, but-”

“-then stop panicking about me going on a date,” Arthur replied, grinning. “I just want to have fun. I think I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it,” Charles replied. “Remind me what his name is?”

“Benjamin. He works in that coffee shop we always go to, remember? I asked him out on a date, not the other way around. We’re going to that restaurant we went to for Max’s birthday.” Arthur pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped at his screen. “I’m going to share my location with you on WhatsApp for eight hours so you can see where I am the whole time. Our table is booked for 8 o’clock, so I’d expect to be home at about 11. Please text me if you have any worries, just please don’t turn up at the restaurant.”

“I won’t come to the restaurant, I promise,” Charles said. “We’re getting take-away pizza. Is it okay if I wait up until you get back?”

“Of course,” Arthur replied, standing up and straightening his shirt. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and patted his hips to check he had his wallet with him. “Anything else before I go?”

“No,” Max replied, squeezing Charles’s leg. “Go. Have fun. You deserve it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could have been a much longer piece where we'd really explore Louis grooming Arthur and the subtle lies he tells him as he becomes more controlling and abusive, but there's a global pandemic going on right now which is leaving me little time to write. I wanted to get a happy ending though with a positive outlook for the future. Arthur's date will be successful and Benjamin will be an absolute delight. 
> 
> I quite liked writing Protective Big Brother Charles, I might do some more of that.


	47. Leclerc/Verstappen - cheating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando discovers why Max won't play video games with Charles
> 
> Short but not that sweet.

“Ciao, ciao, see you tomorrow everybody, cia-cia-ciao,” Charles beamed, smiling at his webcam as he clicked the ‘end stream’ button on his computer. Sighing, he slumped back in his chair and stretched his arms up over his head, cracking his spine as he stretched his legs out as well, his toes brushing against the back of his desk.

“I’m going to head to bed, I think,” Alex said, his soft voice loud in Charles’s headphones where he had the volume turned up high.

“Albono, you don’t want more Warzone?” Charles asked sadly, reaching for his controller. “You’re going to leave me and Lando on our own? You’re the best player here, we will surely all die without you.”

“I know, mate,” Alex replied sympathetically, “but I’m really tired. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Charles sighed, fiddling with his controller and staring at his computer screen. “Just you and me then, Lando. You and me against the world. I think we can still win.”

“Do you want me to ask Max to play?” Lando suggested.

“You can, but I don’t think he’ll say yes,” Charles replied lightly.

“What is with you two?!” Lando asked, frustrated. “Do you think he makes excuses every time I suggest we play together? Is he avoiding you?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Charles screwed his face up as he heard Lando sigh into his headset.

“Honestly, there’s so much sexual tension between the two of you, maybe you should just fuck and get it over with,” Lando teased. “Or did you already try that? Is that why he’s avoiding you?”

“Please don’t go there, Lando,” Charles replied quietly, gripping his controller tighter. “Let’s just play.”

“Oh my god, I’m right, aren’t I?” Lando asked, his words all stringing together into one. “You’ve got to tell me what happened.”

“Lando, please,” Charles said, his voice cracking as he cleared his throat. He set his controller down on his desk in front of his keyboard and hugged his knees to his chest. 

Lando heard the pain in Charles’s voice and he sighed again. “He broke your heart, didn’t he? How long were you together?”

“Two years,” Charles replied after a long hesitation. “Abu Dhabi last year, we were both on the podium. That night, I found him in bed with Pierre. Apparently it had been going on for months. I still feel stupid.”

“Jesus.”

“Yep,” Charles replied flatly, unfolding himself and reaching for the controller. “I lost my boyfriend and my best friend that night. Max won’t leave his flat even though lockdown is over, and Pierre’s too scared to even come back to Monaco in case he has to see me.”

“Fuck those guys,” Lando said protectively. “Honestly, Charles, you deserve so much better than that. Fuck them both.”

“Can we just play Warzone?” Charles asked, stifling a yawn.

“Of course, mate. I’ll stay up as late as you want and we’ll play whatever you want. I wish I was there in Monaco with you, but you’ll just have to put up with me in your headphones instead. I’ll try not to scream too much.”

“It’s okay,” Charles replied, closing his eyes and smiling. “You’re funny when you scream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max >:(
> 
> Pierre >:(


	48. Leclerc/Norris - lockdown surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 400 words of fluff where Arthur surprises Lando during the great coronavirus pandemic lockdown of 2020.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Lando growled into his empty house as he hurried down the stairs to the front door. The bell had been ringing non-stop for the last 30 seconds and Lando wasn’t expecting any deliveries.

Lando crossed his hallway and ripped open the door, screaming loudly and hiding his face in his hands as he burst into tears. “Oh my God.”

“This wasn’t the reaction I was expecting,” Arthur laughed, adjusting his rucksack on his back and stepping into the house. He wrapped his arms around Lando’s shoulders and pulled him into a tight cuddle, nuzzling his hair. “Surprise?”

“No, you can’t be here,” Lando protested, freeing himself from Arthur’s grip and leaping up three of his stairs. “We’re not part of the same household,” he said, nervously wringing his hands together. “We’re not supposed to be closer than two metres.”

Arthur smiled sympathetically and closed the front door, sliding his bag down his arms and leaving it on the mat. He then took his shoes off and placed them neatly next to Lando’s shoes before kneeling down at the bottom of the stairs, peering up at Lando. “They told me at the airport I have to stay in one place for fourteen days. That means we’re part of the same home now. You and me.”

Lando wiped his eyes and sat down on the stairs. “But-”

“-I’ll do anything,” Arthur interrupted. “I’ll wash my hands twenty times a day. I’ll stay in one room all by myself. I’ll do whatever you need to feel safe, but I’m not leaving you. You can’t get rid of me for at least fourteen days. I brought my laptop and my phone charger and that Ritter chocolate you like.”

“Your Easter egg is still in the kitchen,” Lando replied.

“I look forward to eating it,” Arthur said, offering Lando a warm smile. “Are we going to spend the next fourteen days sitting on the stairs, or am I allowed into the rest of the house?”

“Can you take a shower?” Lando asked quietly, standing up and grabbing the bannister to keep himself steady. “I’ll get you a towel and some clean clothes until we wash yours. I know you probably don’t have the virus, but if you’ve been on a plane then you might have been near people who have had it which means it’ll be on your clothes and I don’t want to-”

“Slow down, Lando,” Arthur said, standing up as well. “You’re talking too fast. Take me to your shower; I’ll clean myself really well. And then we can cuddle?”

“Yes. Then we can cuddle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wash your hands.


	49. Albon/Leclerc - major character death (it's not either of them though)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Arthur dies suddenly, Charles and Alex go through his phone to tell his friends. There's one regular contact in his chat list who just has a heart emoji as their name.

“You don’t have to do this right now, you know,” Alex said softly, reaching across the sofa and squeezing Charles’s arm. “It can wait until you feel ready. Or, I could do it?”

“No, it’s okay,” Charles replied, curling towards Alex. “It shouldn’t take too long, right? I just need to go through his whatsapp messages and see if there’s anyone he regularly talks to that we haven’t already told. I want to get it done tonight because they’re putting out the news release tomorrow morning and then everything will be chaos. I don’t know what they’re going to say, though, Lorenzo is dealing with everything. They won’t have done the autopsy yet, so what will they say? Arthur went for a shower and died? That’s not a long news release.”

Charles closed his eyes for a few moments, gripping Alex’s hand tightly and taking a slow breath to regain his composure before turning his attention to Arthur’s phone. He knew the code to unlock it and he smiled sadly at Arthur’s wallpaper - a picture of him in his racing car. Charles opened whatsapp and scrolled through Arthur’s chat history; he felt like he was violating Arthur’s privacy but he knew it needed to be done. Someone needed to contact Arthur’s friends and tell them Arthur had passed suddenly that morning, before they heard it in the news.

Charles curled more towards Alex and settled his head against Alex’s shoulder, his breath catching when he found his own name in the list. He opened the chat window and chewed his lip as he scrolled through the last messages he and Arthur had sent to each other; mostly spamming emoji and screeching audio messages. Charles chose not to play any of the messages, not yet ready to have Arthur’s voice just be a recording.

A few messages down, Charles found a chat with someone who didn’t have a full name in Arthur’s phone, who was just stored as a <3 emoji. Charles fidgeted and held the phone closer to his face, squinting at the cracked screen. He didn’t know Arthur was in a relationship.

“Alex, look at this,” Charles said, moving the phone to Alex could see it. “It’s just a heart emoji. Did Arthur tell you he was seeing someone?”

“No, I had no idea,” Alex replied. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know her name,” Charles shrugged, scrolling back through the messages which were in a mixture of French and English. Arthur’s English wasn’t great and his partner’s French wasn’t great but it was clear they loved each other immensely and Charles put the phone down in his lap while he hugged Alex tightly, not wanting to make the phone call. 

“I’m here, I’ve got you,” Alex soothed, rubbing Charles back as he kissed the top of his head. “Take your time, Charlie. I’m right here.”

Charles squeezed Alex close, wanting to crawl inside him and hide from the world but eventually his tears subsided and he could turn his attention back to Arthur’s phone. “Why wouldn’t he tell us he was seeing someone?” he asked, tapping at the screen and doing a search for ‘tell your brother’ to see if any messages would show up.

<3: Do you think it’s time to  **tell your brother** about us???  
Arthur Leclerc: Not yet. I haven’t told him I’m gay yet. One surprise at a time, okay? ;-) ;-) ;-)  
<3: Okay. I think you should do it soon, though. It feels weird seeing him all the time and him not knowing about us. :/  
Arthur Leclerc: I’ll tell him soon. He’s just stressed right now. Did you hear that Seb is gone next year? :-O :-O :-O :-O  
<3: I know I wouldn’t want Binotto as my team boss! :’) :’) :’)

Alex flinched as Charles threw the phone across the room at the armchair and he scrambled off the sofa, curling his arms around himself as a wave of nausea hit him. “What the fuck, Alexander, he’s gay and he didn’t want to tell me because he thinks I’m too stressed with work to handle it?! Oh my  _ God _ .”

Alex clambered off the sofa and pulled Charles into a cuddle, unable to hold back his own tears. The two of them sat together, tangled in each other’s arms as they grieved for Arthur’s sudden passing. Charles buried his face against Alex’s jumper, crying so hard it made him retch.

Charles eventually pulled away and wiped his eyes on his sleeves, reaching up and shoving his hair out of his face. “We need to call this guy,” he said calmly, stretching across to reach Arthur’s phone. “Whoever it is, he should know about Arthur. He can’t find out by reading it on Twitter. That’s not fair. Even though Arthur didn’t tell us about him, that’s still not fair.”

Charles wiped his eyes again and pressed the ‘call’ button on Arthur’s phone. The line connected and Charles heard the ringing tone, but then it went to voicemail. “He declined my call,” Charles said, frowning.

“Maybe they don’t call each other?” Alex suggested, pulling his own phone out of his pocket. “That’s what I would do. I mean, if I had a boyfriend whose identity I wanted to keep secret, I wouldn’t call them on whatsapp. At least, not without messaging them first. What’s his number? I’ll try calling from my phone.”

Charles tapped at the screen to pull up the contact details and read the phone number out to Alex. It started with +44, confirming to them that Arthur’s boyfriend was in the UK.

“Oh  _ fuck _ ,” Alex said, frowning at his phone as he typed in the last digit. “That number’s saved in my phone as Lando’s number.” Alex hit the call button and put it on speakerphone.

“Hey Alex, what’s up?” Lando asked brightly, answering the call almost immediately.

“Hi Lando,” Alex replied. “You’re on speakerphone. Charles is with me.”

“Hey Charles! What’s wrong, Alex, you sound upset.”

“We need to talk about Arthur,” Alex said, biting his lip. “Lando, are you and Arthur in a relationship?”

“A relationship?” Lando scoffed, struggling to hide the lie in his voice. “I don’t know what you mean, mate.”

“Tell me the truth,” Charles snapped, glaring at the phone.

“We’re not angry, I promise,” Alex added quickly, not wanting Lando to feel ganged up on. “We just need to know the truth, that’s all. How long have you and Arthur been dating?”

“Alex, mate, I can’t confirm or deny anything until I talk to Arthur,” Lando explained. “I don’t know what he has and hasn’t told you. Is he there with you?”

“No.”

“What’s going on, Alex?” Lando asked, worried. “Why are you asking me about Arthur? Why are you and Charles so upset? Has something happened to him? Is he in the hospital? Are you guys alright?”

Charles clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle his whimper as Lando started to panic. He screwed his eyes shut as Alex broke the news to Lando that Arthur had died suddenly earlier that day.

There was a long silence before Lando spoke. “Mate, ask me again,” he said quietly.

“Ask you what?” Alex asked, pulling Charles into a tighter cuddle.

“How long we’ve been dating.”

Alex closed his eyes and hid his face in Charles’s hair. “How long have you and Arthur been dating?”

“Three years.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should write a happier ficlet now where Charles, Arthur, and Alex teach Lando how to play Fortnite.


	50. NOR/VER, NOR & LEC - soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max can feel the suffering of his soulmate. He tries to shrug it off but Lando insists they go to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning - discussion of self harm and questions about suicide. Be gentle with yourself (though if you're looking for someone who's having a rough night but who gets some comfort and reassurance, then you'll get that here <3)

“Max, what’s wrong?” Lando asked, sitting up in their hotel bed and turning on the lamp. It was just past midnight and the two of them had gone for an early night before the race tomorrow. Lando squinted at the light from the lamp and rubbed his eyes. Max was curled up on his side, his face screwed up in pain as he gripped his chest. “Max?”

“It’s nothing; I’m fine,” Max replied, fidgeting a little. “Go back to sleep.”

“I don’t believe you.” Lando pulled the covers away from Max and rolled him onto his back. Lando quickly scanned Max up and down for injuries and saw faint scratches on his thigh. Lando reached out and traced his fingers over Max’s thigh and Max flinched, rubbing at his eyes to wipe away the tears.

“Max, you’re scaring me,” Lando said quietly, pulling the covers back up in case Max was cold.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Max insisted, pulling himself up into a sitting position. He took a deep breath and sank back into the pillows, offering Lando a weak smile. “See? I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

“You still look in pain; I’ve never seen you like this,” Lando said, refusing to drop the issue. “I can see it in your eyes. Please, talk to me?”

Max sighed and scratched at his chest. “It’s my soulmate,” he explained. “I guess he’s having a rough night.”

“Your soulmate is here?” Lando asked incredulously. He’d never met his own soulmate. He knew that the closer you were in physical space, the stronger the connection was. Lando believed his own soulmate was in Iceland - it was somewhere he’d always wanted to visit but could never explain why. Lando also knew that just because someone was your soulmate, it didn’t mean you had to spend your whole life in a romantic relationship with them; it was perfectly possible (and indeed common) to be with someone else. Lando knew he and Max weren’t soulmates, but that didn’t stop them from being together. “Do you know who he is? If he’s hurting, we have to help him.”

“He hates me,” Max replied flatly. “Well, I don’t know that he  _ hates  _ me, but I know that if he’s hurting, I’m not someone he would want to see. Let’s say that. Normally we’re pretty good at blocking our feelings from each other-”

“-then he must be really hurting. Can you tell what’s wrong with him?”

Max shrugged and pulled down the covers, inspecting the scratches on his thigh. “I never really paid much attention to all the soulmate stuff. I don’t care about it, you know? If you find your soulmate and like them, good for you. I don’t need that. I know I can feel his emotions sometimes, but I don’t normally get physical signs like this.”

Lando reached for his phone and did some quick googling. “Oh fuck,” he said after a couple of minutes, showing his phone to Max. “It says that you won’t feel any injuries he gets unless they’re self-inflicted.”

“Do you think he’s cutting himself deliberately?”

Lando nodded and scrambled out of the bed. “You have to tell me who he is so we can go and help him.”

“No way, Lando,” Max replied, reaching to pull Lando back into the bed. “If he’s self-harming, he won’t want me there.”

“If he’s self-harming, he shouldn’t be on his own!” Lando said, jumping away from Max, grabbing Max’s clothes and forcing them into Max’s hands. “Don’t be such an arsehole, right? You’ll both feel better once you’re together. Besides, what’s the alternative? I lie here all night listening to you crying and we both lie awake knowing that someone’s out there hurting so much that he’s cutting himself?! No way, Max, no fucking way. Get dressed, and take me to him.”

Max reluctantly climbed out of bed and pulled on his clothes before sliding his feet into a pair of hotel slippers and following Lando out of the room. They walked down the corridor and around the corner and when they got to the room at the end, Max hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Lando asked, alarmed. “Oh my god, is he dying? Is this a suicide?”

Max shook his head, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “No, he’s just upset. It’s intense, that’s all. I’m not normally this close to him. Fuck, I feel like I’m being crushed. He’s  _ exhausted  _ and he’s upset and he’s pissed off. He won’t want to see me.”

“Yes he will,” Lando insisted. “You can help.” He knocked loudly on the door, but there was no answer. Lando knocked again before turning to Max, pleading with him.

Max reached over Lando and knocked on the door. “Charles, open the door. We know you’re here. It’s Max and Lando.”

The two of them heard scuffling on the other side of the door before Charles unlocked it and pulled it open slightly. He was wearing an oversized hoodie and a baggy pair of jogging bottoms. His hair was loosely buried beneath a bandana and he had his sleeves pulled down over his hands. “What do you want?”

“Can we come in?” Lando asked tentatively.

Charles frowned, looking suspiciously at Max and Lando. “Why?”

“You know why,” Max sighed. “It’s the only way either of us will get any sleep.”

Charles took a slow breath and then surrendered his grip on the door, turning around and heading back into his room. It looked immaculate; even the bed was still made. “I thought we agreed not to tell anyone we’re soulmates?”

“Max and I don’t have secrets,” Lando interjected. “Besides, Max didn’t technically tell me anything. I only found out it was you when Max knocked on the door and called your name.”

Charles sank down into the sofa in his room and peered up at Max and Lando. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking straight at Max. “I didn’t realise I wasn’t blocking everything. How much did you get?”

“Enough,” Max replied, perching on the edge of the bed. “But I’m feeling better now I’m here. How are you doing?”

“A bit better,” Charles mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Can I ask you something?” Lando said, moving to crouch down in front of Charles. “Did you cut yourself tonight?”

Charles’s eyes widened and he looked up at Max, wondering just how much of his feelings Max picked up on. “What the hell?”

“I’m not angry, I promise,” Lando said quickly, “and I’m not going to tell anyone you don’t want me to. I just- I need to check that you’re safe, okay? Have you cleaned the wound? Have you put a bandage on? I just need to know if I should go and find a first aid kit.”

Charles stifled a yawn and closed his eyes. “You don’t need to get a first aid kit,” he said quietly, opening his eyes again. “And before you ask, the answer is no, I’m not thinking about suicide. Right now I’m just tired and I want to go to sleep. I don’t want to  _ talk  _ or anything.”

“Do you want us to leave?” Lando asked softly. “Or I could go and Max could stay? Whatever you want; we just want you to be comfortable. Right, Max?”

“Sure.”

“I’d like you to go,” Charles said, trying his best to sound polite. “I’m not really in the mood for company.”

“That’s fine, we understand,” Max said lightly, standing up from the bed. “Come on, Lando. Let’s give Charles some space.”

Lando opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, admitting defeat. He stood up and straightened out his hoodie, following Max towards the door.

“Max, wait.” Charles’s voice was barely more than a whisper but it was loud enough for Max to hear. 

Max turned back to face Charles, a tight feeling in his chest. Charles was still exhausted and upset and frustrated and pissed off but there was a tiny glimmer of hope in there too; the idea that maybe not  _ everything  _ was bullshit. As Charles came over to Max, Max wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. He slid his hands under the bottom of Charles’s hoodie, pressing his hands directly against the skin on his back.

Charles pressed him close against Max, wrapping his arms around Max’s shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against the back of Max’s neck. He pushed his fingers up into Max’s hair and hid his face against Max’s shoulder, breathing him in.

Lando watched the two of them but said nothing, not wanting to ruin their intimate moment. He offered Charles a warm smile as Charles pulled away. Max could feel that Charles was starting to relax and he covered his mouth with his hand, letting out a small yawn.

“You know, Charles,” Lando said, reaching for Max’s hand. “You can borrow Max anytime you need a hug, alright?”

“Thank you,” Charles said shyly, pulling his sleeves back down over his hands and retreating away from Max and Lando. “You two are so good together. I can feel the happiness from Max when I see you two together. Please don’t try and block that.”

Lando let go of Max’s hand and threw himself at Charles, squeezing him tight. “I know I’m not your soulmate and can’t  _ really  _ make you feel better, but I’m your friend and I love you, right? If you don’t want to talk, that’s okay, but if you ever change your mind, I’ll be there for you.”

“Thank you,” Charles said again, hugging Lando back before letting him go. “And thank you for checking on me. It means a lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always enjoyed soulmate AUs but I've also enjoyed thinking about how soulmates might not necessarily end up together. After all, there are seven billion people on the planet and like that Tim Minchin song says, "If I didn't have you, I'd probably have somebody else." And maybe your soulmate is a douchebag.


	51. Leclerc/Russell - soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to the last chapter. Charles has some happiness for once! :D

Max waved to the crowd and leant against the railings of the driver parade truck, smiling across at Lando. They’d spent the summer break together on an island off the coast of Italy, and Lando was still radiating the sun tan and positivity he’d picked up. Max wondered what it would be like to be Lando’s soulmate, to really feel that deep sense of belonging with the man he loved, but he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. It didn’t matter that they weren’t soulmates. What mattered was that they loved each other and had a solid relationship.

Lando had encouraged Max and Charles to spend more time together without him around, and Max had reluctantly agreed. After a particularly dark night where Max had found Charles on the roof of their apartment block in Monaco (not wanting to jump, but not against the idea of being pushed off by a strong gust of wind) the two of them had stayed up until five o’clock in the morning just talking. They had a lot in common, after all - both had started karting at a young age, both had been on top of their game and pushed to compete with each other. In another world, they’d perhaps make really good friends but in this world, it couldn’t happen. Not after they’d spent the first twenty-two years of their lives hating each other. The best they could hope for was a healthy mutual respect.

Charles often joined Max and Lando for breakfast in the hotel; it was an opportunity for Max and Charles to be close to each other without having to force conversation - Lando was happy to chat enough for all of them. Not wanting Charles to feel like a third wheel, George had often joined them to fill the remaining seat at the table and Max was content to play on his phone while the other three chatted shit, often about Alex.

Max turned around on the trailer and leant his back against the railings. He glanced over to where George, Alex, and Charles were deep in conversation at the other end of the trailer and he felt butterflies in his stomach. Frowning, he reached for Lando’s arm. “Lando, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything,” Lando replied brightly, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose. 

“Are Charles and George dating?” Max asked. He couldn’t read their body language; Alex had his arm around George’s shoulder but that was normal - everyone knew they were soulmates and they’d been best friends since they were 6. And Charles was open with physical affection too but Max just assumed that was because he was from the south. Pierre, Carlos, Antonio, they all were open with hugging people and kissing them. Kevin and Valtteri, on the other hand…

“Are they  _ what _ ?!” Lando hissed, dragging Max out of his thoughts. Lando frowned, following Max’s gaze over to where Charles was animatedly telling a story and George was grinning. “Nobody’s said anything to me. Why, what are you thinking?”

“They’re either dating, or I’m developing a crush on George,” Max said, wincing at the idea. “I’m so used to getting dark feelings from Charles, I don’t know what the happy ones feel like. But I look at George and I just feel  _ warmth  _ inside me, you know? It’s weird. I’ve never thought about George like that before. He’s too tall and too skinny and too obsessed with taking selfies.”

Lando laughed and leant his head on Max’s shoulder. “If you’d rather date George instead of me, you can just tell me,” he teased.

“No way,” Max protested, shoving Lando away and making a pretend retching noise. 

“Alex!” Lando shouted, waving his arm for Alex to come over to them. Lando ignored Max’s whispered protest of ‘what the fuck are you doing’ and when Alex got to them, Lando pulled him in closer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Alex, mate, we need your intel,” Lando said quietly, making sure nobody else could overhear them. “You know stuff about George, right?”

“Too much,” Alex grinned. “What do you want to know?”

“Are him and Charles dating?” Lando asked, trying not to look too obvious when he glanced over at George and Charles who were still deep in discussion.

Alex shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat before answering. “They were trying to be discreet. Is it  _ that  _ obvious?”

“Oh thank god,” Max replied, letting out a big sigh of relief. “For a second there I thought I was developing a crush on George.”

“Why would you be developing a crush on George?” Alex asked suspiciously. “What’s going on here? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” Lando interjected quickly, not wanting to out Max and Charles as soulmates unless they were both on board with the idea. “With the soulmate stuff, can you  tell if Charles makes George happy?”

“Yes, I’m glad George  _ finally  _ has a boyfriend,” Alex grinned. “It means I don’t have to spend my nights listening to him whine about being permanently single. I’m glad he’s finally found someone who can put up with his personality. And it’s quite a relief, really, because George has had a crush on Charles since we were in GP3. But it’s weird, you know? Because I had George’s feelings when I looked at Charles, and - don’t get me wrong, Charles is hot, but he’s not hot like  _ that  _ to me, you know? Anyway, George is happy, and I think Charles is too. It’s a shame Charles’s soulmate isn’t here to see the change in him; I bet they’d sleep easier at night now that Charles isn’t so anxious the whole time.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Max said distantly, reaching for Lando’s hand.

“Thanks for the intel!” Lando beamed, squeezing Max’s fingers lovingly as he clapped Alex on the shoulder. “We’ll let you get back to third-wheeling now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out that if you're susceptible to anxiety/depression and you go through a global pandemic and you have a penchant for angsty fic and you've read the news recently, it seems that it can make your mental state take a nose dive!
> 
> But if you avoid the news, wash your hands, wear a mask, and try to follow whatever the UK's government latest random plan is, and concentrate instead on imaginininging HAPPY fic settings, your mental state can perk up! Who knew?!


	52. Kvyat/Russell - discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniil and George are enjoying a cozy night in when an uninvited visitor (Pierre) turns up. Awkwardness ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between COVID and Grosjean's crash and Trump and all the war and death and murderating going on in the world, what I think we need is less Charles angst and more George/Dany in their underwear. I will probably write more of this pairing because it is great.

Pierre scrunched up his nose as he waited for Daniil to answer his hotel room door; his mask was so high on his face that it practically scratching his eyelashes, and his hair was caught under his hoodie. He played with his key card in his pocket and eventually Daniil answered the door.

"Is now a bad time?" Pierre asked as Daniil hastily tied his dressing gown around his waist; Pierre could see that he was only wearing underwear underneath. It wasn't too late in the evening but maybe Daniil had wanted an early night; it had been a tough race for everyone. The last of a triple-header in _that_ heat and with a safety car delay too meaning the full two hours was used up, Pierre was feeling so warm and lethargic that his COVID app was telling him he needed a test.

Daniil didn't really have a chance to reply before Pierre invited himself into the room; Daniil had never said 'no' before and they'd often stayed up late playing computer games, watching documentaries on youtube, and eating tiramisu from the room service menu. Daniil always knew how to cheer Pierre up when he was feeling down.

"Pierre, I-" Daniil was cut off by a big gasp from Pierre.

Pierre's eyes widened behind his mask and he pulled off his hood and mask to see more clearly. Across the other side of the bed, George was stood by the balcony desperately trying to get his own dressing gown on. George glared at Daniil with an expression that said "I thought you said 'I don't know who it is, but I'll get rid of them" This doesn't look like you got rid of Pierre!" and Daniil could only look back with a pleading expression on his face.

"What the hell?" Pierre asked, more shocked than angry. "George are you wearing a _bra_?!"

"Pierre, please," Daniil said, finally finding his voice and coming to George's rescue.

Pierre turned to face Daniil and grinned widely. "You dark bastard," he laughed. "All this time... you said your girlfriend was called Gia. All this time, Gia has been George?!"

George relaxed when he saw Pierre's joy and he adjusted his dressing gown to properly hide his blue bra. "Is that what you call me to other people?" he asked curiously. "What else do you say about me?"

"Very little," Pierre replied. "Gia's shy, apparently she doesn't like coming to the races and apparently she doesn't have an instagram account. I can't believe this, Dany, why wouldn't you just tell me the truth?"

"That's enough about us," Daniil said awkwardly. "Why are you here, Pierre?"

"Because I was lonely," Pierre replied honestly. "I wanted to hang out with you and eat ice cream and play computer games, but now I can see that you are busy. I shall leave you two alone."

"Will you be okay on your own?"

"Yeah, I'll go and find Charles or Tonio or someone," Pierre replied.

"Please don't tell them about _this_," George said quickly, gesturing vaguely between Daniil and himself.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Pierre replied, pulling his mask back on. "You two have fun. I'll see you at the airport tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> Not currently open to requests.


End file.
